; 


SCIENCE  AND   SOCIAL   PROGRESS 


iii 


A  PHILOSOPHICAL  INTRODUCTION 
TO  MORAL  SCIENCE 


SB    ED    Sb7 


HERBERT  WALLACE  SCHNEIDER 


REPRINTED  FROM 

ARCHIVES    OF    PHTJLO8OPIIY 

NO.    1* 


Submitted  in  partial  fulfilment  of  the  re<,j-  ,-aients  tor  the  deg< .  <-  «f  Doctor  of 
Philosophy  in  the  Faculty  ot*  Philosophy,  Columbia  I'niv.  .    ity 


LANCASTER,  PA. 


EXCHANGE 


SCIENCE  AND   SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

A  PHILOSOPHICAL  INTRODUCTION 
TO  MORAL  SCIENCE 


BY 

HERBERT  WALLACE  SCHNEIDER 


BEPRINTB1>  FROM 

ARCHIVES    OF    PHILOSOPHY 
No.  18 


Submitted  in  partial  fulfilment  of  the  requirements  for  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Philosophy  in  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy,  Columbia  University 


I.ANCASTEB,  PA. 
19SO 


PRESS  OF 

THE  NEW  ERA  PRINTING  COMPANY 
LANCASTER,  PA. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

To  the  writer  this  essay  represents  an  intellectual  autobiography, 
rather  than  a  piece  of  research.  It  is  but  a  record  of  some  of  his 
experiences  as  a  student  under  the  Department  of  Philosophy  at 
Columbia.  Consequently  the  debt  which  he  owes  to  the  members  of 
the  department  can  not  be  made  explicit  by  specific  references  in  the 
essay ;  rather  the  essay  as  a  whole  is  an  expression  of  his  indebtedness. 

He  is  indebted  above  all  to  Professors  John  Dewey  and  Frederick 
J.  E.  Woodbridge,  not  only  for  their  continual  intellectual  stimula- 
tion, but  also  for  their  invaluable  criticisms  and  suggestions  in  connec- 
tion with  this  work.  To  Professor  John  J.  Coss  of  the  department  at 
Columbia  the  writer  owes  a  peculiar  obligation  for  his  constant  advice 
and  helpful  criticism.  He  also  appreciates  the  valuable  services  ren- 
dered by  Mr.  A.  E.  Severinghaus  in  the  preparation  of  the  manuscript. 

H.  W.  S. 


428892 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE    vii 

CHAPTER  I.    SCIENCE — THEORETICAL  AND  PRACTICAL i 

Relation  to  other  distinctions — Sidgwick's  distinctions — Principles 
and  "Applications"  (Mill) — Theory  as  a  basis  (Mill) — Miscel- 
laneous distinctions  of  subject-matter — Reflection  and  Evaluation 
in  the  organization  of  science — Structural  and  Evaluative  Science 
— Implications — Their  relations — The  distinction  in  ethics — Levy- 
Bruhl's  science  des  moeurs. 

CHAPTER  II.    THE  SEARCH  FOR  MORAL  STRUCTURES   n 

Moral  theory  as  a  sanction — Mathematical  structures:  Kant — G. 
E.  Moore — Rousseau — Bentham — Martineau — Mechanical  struc- 
tures :  Evolution — Moral  world  order — Laws  of  evolution  as  forces 
— Biological  structures — Sociological  structures — The  morale  posi- 
tive— Other  functions  of  the  search  for  moral  structures — The 
"  natural  basis  " — Attempt  at  moral  science — Demoralization — 
Structures  are  not  moral — Effect  on  moral  practise. 

CHAPTER  III.     MORALITY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 23 

Morality  a  natural  function — Analysis  of  the  moral  quality — 
Goods  and  human  control — Progress  a  product  of  art — Evolution 
of  man's  control:  (i)  Optimistic  resignation  (Spencer) — (2) 
Transcendentalism  (Kant) — (3)  Rational  control  (Condorcet, 
Kant) — Value  of  (i)  and  (2) — Morality  as  activity  qua  control  or 
progress — Morality  as  duty — Motive  of  simplicity — Shift  in  moral 
problems — Subordination  to  problem  of  goods — Custom  vs.  reflec- 
tive morality — Duty  as  pedagogical  side  of  morals — The  moral  and 
the  social — Moral  science,  the  science  of  social  progress. 

CHAPTER  IV.     SOCIAL  SCIENCE  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 33 

Social  and  physical  science — Social  science  structural — Structural 
science  and  human  control :  Fatalism — Trial  and  error — Idealism — 
Structural  science,  and  the  discovery  of  limits — Gap  in  develop- 
ment between  social  and  physical  sciences — Present  state  of  social 
science — History — Psychology — Economics — Sociology — Anthro- 
pology— Transitional  state  of  social  science — Social  science  and  in- 
struments of  control. 


yi  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  V.     MORAL  SCIENCE  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 44 

Need  of  scientific  technique  in  moral  science — Relation  to  democ- 
racy—  Subject-matter — Object — Method — Relation  to  social  sci- 
ence— Present  status  and  social  need  of  moral  science. 

CHAPTER  VI.    FROM  MORALITY  TO  FREEDOM 58 

Social  ends  in  science  and  art — The  definition  of  ends — Hypothet- 
ical ends — The  goal  itself  not  logical — Free  social  art. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY    63 


PREFACE 

"  Give  us  a  guide,"  cry  men  to  the  philosopher.1  "  We  would 
escape  from  these  miseries  in  which  we  are  entangled.  A  better  state 
is  ever  present  to  our  imaginations,  and  we  yearn  after  it ;  but  all  our 
efforts  to  realize  it  are  fruitless.  We  are  weary  of  perpetual  failures ; 
tell  us  by  what  rule  we  may  attain  our  desire.  .  .  ." 

"  Have  a  little  patience,"  returns  the  moralist,  "  and  I  will  give  you 
my  opinion  as  to  the  mode  of  securing  this  greatest  happiness  to  the 
greatest  number." 

"There  again,"  exclaim  the  objectors,  "you  mistake  our  require- 
ment. We  want  something  else  than  opinions.  We  have  had  enough 
of  them.  Every  futile  scheme  for  the  general  good  has  been  based  on 
opinion ;  and  we  have  no  guarantee  that  your  plan  will  not  add  one  to 
the  list  of  failures.  Have  you  discovered  a  means  of  forming  an 
infallible  judgment?  If  not,  you  are,  for  aught  we  know,  as  much  in 
the  dark  as  ourselves.  True,  you  have  obtained  a  clearer  view  of  the 
end  to  be  arrived  at ;  but  concerning  the  route  leading  to  it,  your  offer 
of  an  opinion  proves  that  you  know  nothing  more  certain  than  we  do. 
We  demur  to  your  maxim  because  it  is  not  what  we  wanted — a  guide ; 
because  it  dictates  no  sure  mode  of  securing  the  desideratum ;  because 
it  puts  no  veto  on  a  mistaken  policy;  because  it  permits  all  actions — 
bad,  as  readily  as  good — provided  only  the  actors  believe  them  con- 
ducive to  the  prescribed  end.  Your  doctrines  of  '  expediency '  or 
'  utility  '  or  '  general  good '  or  '  greatest  happiness  to  the  greatest  num- 
ber '  afford  not  a  solitary  command  of  a  practical  character.  Let  but 
rulers  think,  or  profess  to  think,  that  their  measures  will  benefit  the 
community,  and  your  philosophy  stands  mute  in  the  presence  of  the 
most  egregious  folly,  or  the  blackest  misconduct.  This  will  not  do  for 
us.  We  seek  a  system  that  can  return  a  definite  answer  when  we 
ask—'  Is  this  act  good  ?'  " 

This  eternal  demand  confronts  us  to-day  with  a  more  awful  urg- 
ency than  ever  before.  The  times  are  bristling  with  urgent  issues. 
Men  and  women  are  compelled  to  face  them  and  to  decide.  There  are 
not  merely  the  whole  host  of  petty  personal  problem's,  nor  merely  the 
familiar  combats  of  local  politics,  nor  even  the  greater  issues  of  na- 
tional life  and  polity.  There  are  all  of  these,  but  added  to  them  are 

1  Herbert  Spencer:  Social  Statics,  pp.  11-13. 

vii 


Vlll  PREFACE 

new  issues,  new  problems  which  are  world-wide  in  scope,  and  within 
whose  meshes  lie  the  destinies  of  nations.  And  these  tremendous 
issues  are  being  faced  not  merely  by  small  groups  of  men,  by  rulers 
and  statesmen.  They  are  issues  which  will  be  ultimately  decided  by 
the  millions  of  "  common  people  "  whom  they  ultimately  concern.  And 
yet  there  is  scarcely  a  single  issue  which  could  be  called  "  morally 
simple,"  for  it  is  not  an  issue  between  a  recognized  good  and  a  recog- 
nized evil ;  it  is  an  issue  in  which  both  sides  contend :  "  This  is  good." 
The  average  voter,  the  common  man,  is  hence  more  directly  concerned 
with  the  problem  of  whom  to  believe,  than  with  the  issue  itself.  "  Who 
can  tell  me,"  he  asks  almost  in  despair,  "  which  of  the  gentlemen  is 
telling  the  truth?"  He  is  in  need  of  insight,  enlightenment,  rather 
than  of  "  moral  suasion."  In  other  words,  he  is  in  need  of  the  "  means 
of  forming  an  infallible  judgment."  It  is  the  problem  of  supplying 
this  need  which  is  of  crucial  importance  to  current  moral  philosophy. 
And  moral  philosophy  is  trying  to  meet  it  in  two  ways. 

The  one  way  is  to  pretend  to  have  at  last  "  discovered  a  means  of 
forming  an  infallible  judgment,"  a  certain  rule,  an  absolute  standard. 
This  usually  turns  out  to  be  but  the  addition  of  one  more  opinion  "to 
the  list  of  failures,"  and  for  the  very  reasons  which  Spencer  has  above 
pointed  out.  Opinions  are  easily  disguised  as  absolute  truths.  This  is, 
in  fact,  the  way  in  which  Spencer  answers  his  own  question.  It  is  the 
philosopher's  pet  form  of  self-deception. 

The  other,  more  honest  way  of  meeting  this  demand  is  to  admit 
impotency.  It  is,  as  Spencer  puts  it,  to  submit  "  that  such  expectations 
are  unreasonable."  It  contents  itself  with  proving  that  a  panacea  for 
all  moral  ills  is  an  impossibility;  that  an  absolute  standard  is  a  self- 
contradiction  ;  that  supposedly  certain  and  fixed  rules  are  merely  opin- 
ions, and  far  from  infallible ;  that  what  is  good  can  not  be  determined 
by  a  "  system." 

But  it  is  clear  that  neither  of  these  ways  helps  out  the  original 
problem.  They  tend  to  neutralize  each  other.  The  one  makes  pre- 
tences and  the  other  exposes  them.  The  positive  problem  of  finding 
f1  out  what  is  good  is  left  untouched.  All  that  moral  philosophy  has 
done  has  been  to  clear  away  certain  impediments  which  have  prevented 
an  inquiry  into  human  goods.  The  positive  task  of  meeting  the  chal- 
lenge made  by  moral  practise,  it  has  failed  to  undertake.  It  may  be 
that  the  demand  made  upon  it  is  unjust.  The  task  may  be  impossible ; 
at  least  impossible  from  the  point  of  view  of  moral  philosophy.  Moral 
practise  may  have  to  turn  elsewhere  for  a  guide.  But  so  much  is  clear, 
that  here  is  an  urgent  demand,  a  need  unfulfilled.  It  is  a  demand  for 


PREFACE  IX 

what  might  be  called  a  genuine  moral  science.  Our  object  in  this 
essay  is  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  this  demand  and  the  conditions 
under  which  it  may  be  met. 

Moral  science  has  been  proclaimed  ever  since  science  became 
respectable.  But  the  term  "  science  "  on  the  cover  of  a  book  on  ethics  by 
no  means  indicates  a  scientific  inquiry.  On  the  contrary,  very  fre- 
quently the  older  "  moral  philosophy  "  tried  to  save  its  face  by  adopting 
the  more  fashionable  title  of  "  science."  The  attempt  to  achieve  moral  tf-~ 
certainty  by  short-cut  methods  persists  in  spite  of  the  claim  that  ethics 
has  become  a  "  science."  Hence  the  need  of  inquiring  into  the  impli- 
cations of  the  introduction  of  scientific  method  into  ethics. 

One  of  the  objections  to  a  moral  science  as  it  is  here  described  will 
no  doubt  be  that  it  goes  too  far  afield ;  that  it  is  useless  for  class-room 
purposes;  that  it  can  not  be  put  into  a  text-book;  that  it  can  not  be 
taught  or  studied  in  the  course  of  a  college  curriculum  as  is  ethics ; 
that  it  can  not  be  organized  into  a  "  body  of  knowledge,"  etc.  And  this 
is  precisely  the  implication.  Moral  science,  as  it  is  here  conceived,  is 
an  out-of-door  science.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  text-books,  of  proposi- 
tions, of  dialectics,  of  maxims,  etc.  It  is  an  experimental  inquiry 
involving  social  activities  of  all  sorts.  It  can  not  be  carried  on  in  a 
classroom  or  a  library;  it  must  carry  on  social  experiments,  social 
legislation,  and  social  reconstruction.  It  is  only  gradually  that  the  re- 
sults of  such  researches  can  be  organized  into  some  sort  of  coherent 
form  and  unity,  and  embodied  in  books.  Moral  science,  in  other 
words,  is  not  a  system  of  truths,  but  an  inquiry.  It  is  only  by  the 
adoption  of  scientific  methods  in  the  inquiry  into  moral  problems,  that 
our  moral  life  can  ever  gain  that  assurance  and  certainty  which 
Spencer  demands.  The  short-cuts  to  truth,  which  are  so  tempting  to  ^ 
the  moral  philosopher  end  in  a  blind  alley.  Freedom  can  be  purchased 
only  by  the  patient  toil  of  scientific  research. 

Stated  in  these  broad  terms,  the  thesis  of  this  essay  sounds  like  a 
platitude.    To  insist  on  the  social  necessity  of  scientific  research,  would 
seem  to  be  insisting  on  a  commojiplace.    Science  no  longer  needs  justi- 
fication.   No  attempt  is  here  made  to  justify  it.    The  validity  and  utility 
of  science  are  taken  for  granted.    But  the  mere  fact  that  the  desirability    "f- 
of  science  and  scientific  method  is  so  generally  admitted,  has  tempted 
men  to  conjure  with  these  terms.     Almost  anything  will  pass  now-a- 
days  if  it  is  labelled  "  scientific."    The  term  has  become  merely  eulo- 
gistic.   Hence  the  need  of  inquiring  more  closely  into  the  exact  impli-  / 
cations  of  science  from  the  point  of  view  of  social  art. 


X  PREFACE 

The  following  essay  is  not  intended  as  a  piece  of  moral  science,  but 
only  as  an  introduction  to  it.  "  Notwithstanding  the  extreme  gen- 
erality of  the  principles  of  method  which  I  have  laid  down  (a  general- 
ity which,  I  trust,  is  not,  in  this  instance,  synonymous  with  vagueness), 
I  have  indulged  the  hope  that  to  some  of  those  on  whom  the  task  will 
devolve  of  bringing  those  most  important  of  all  sciences  into  a  more 
satisfactory  state,  these  observations  may  be  useful ;  both  in  removing 
erroneous,  and  in  clearing  up  the  true  conceptions  of  the  means  by 
which,  on  subjects  of  so  high  a  degree  of  complication,  truth  can  be 
attained."2 

2  Mill:  System  of  Logic.  Vol.  II,  loth  ed.,  pp.  556-557. 


CHAPTER  I 
SCIENCE— THEORETICAL  AND  PRACTICAL 

It  has  become  a  fashion  to  introduce  books  on  ethics,  and  to  a  less 
extent  books  on  sociology,  economics  and  political  science,  by  distin- 
guishing between  pure  and  applied  science,  between  theoretical  and 
practical  science;  or  in  general  between  theory  and  practise,  science 
and  art.  And  these  distinctions  are  usually  made,  after  the  manner  of 
fashions,  in  a  purely  formal  way.  But  sometimes  they  serve  to 
smuggle  in  other  distinctions,  such  as  those  between  normative  and 
descriptive  sciences,  the  " ought"  and  the  "is,"  judgments  of  value 
and  judgments  of  fact,  the  ideal  and  the  real.  The  result  has  been  a 
very  general  confusion,  and  some  attempt  must  be  made  to  clear  it  up, 
before  it  is  possible  to  discuss  moral  science  intelligently. 

In  the  first  place  there  are  two  separate  distinctions  which  are 
commonly  confused ;  the  one,  the  distinction  between  theory  and  prac- 
tise or  between  science  and  art;  the  other,  the  distinction  between 
theoretical  (or  pure)  science  and  practical  (or  applied)  science.  The 
former  is  a  distinction  between  science  and  something  not  science,  the 
latter  between  kinds  of  science.  Taking  up  the  former  first,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  distinction  between  science  and  art  is  a  distinction  within 
art.  For  science  is  an  art,  the  art  of  inquiry  or  of  thinking.  There 
was  a  time  when  thinking  was  not  a  controlled  art,  but  a  spontaneous 
activity,  random  inference.  Much  of  our  inference  is  still  uncon- 
trolled. But  the  development  of  scientific  method  means  the  establish- 
ment of  an  art  of  inference.  To  distinguish  between  science  and  art 
must  mean,  therefore,  to  distinguish  between  the  art  of  thinking  and 
the  non-intellectual  arts ;  or  more  specifically  between  activities  organ- 
ized for  the  purpose  of  knowing,  and  activities  organized  for  the  pur- 
pose of  commerce,  political  government,  amusement,  etc.  This  dis- 
tinction is  quite  clearly  independent  of  that  other,  between  pure  and 
applied,  theoretical  and  practical  science,  and  need  not  concern  us 
further. 

But  this  second  distinction  is  made  apparently  between  kinds  of 
science.  It  is  often  used,  however,  especially  in  ethical  literature,  not 
as  a  distinction  within  science,  but  to  distinguish  between  science  and 
something  else.  This  use  makes  theory  equivalent  to  science  and  sets 


SCIENCE  -AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 


it  over  against  art,  rather  than  over  against  practical  or  applied  sci- 
ence ;  thus  reducing  this  second  distinction  to  the  first.  Sidgwick,  for 
example,  has  a  good  deal  of  trouble  because  of  the  various  uses  of 
these  terms,  and  to  show  the  confusion  which  is  current,  we  might 
quote  from  his  handling  of  the  problem.  He  begins  by  the  statement 
that  "Ethics  is  a  department  of  the  Theory  or  Study  of  Practise."1 
He  goes  on  to  say :  "  I  have  called  Ethics  a  study  rather  than  a  science, 
because  it  is  widely  thought  that  a  science  must  necessarily  have  some 
department  of  actual  existence  for  its  subject-matter"  (p.  i).  So  he 
distinguishes  two  kinds  of  study,  "  the  positive  and  the  practical " 
(p.  2).  The  positive  only  is,  strictly  speaking,  science,  as  used  above, 
and  it  is  "  an  attempt  to  ascertain  the  general  laws  or  uniformities  by 
which  the  varieties  of  human  conduct,  and  of  men's  sentiments  and 
judgments  respecting  conduct  may  be  explained"  (p.  2),  as  in  psychol- 
ogy and  sociology.  The  practical  "  study "  is  "  an  attempt  to  deter- 
mine which  of  these  varieties  of  conduct  is  right  and  which  of  these 
divergent  judgments  valid"  (p.  2).  But  then  he  ceases  to  restrict  the 
term  "  science  "  to  the  "  positive  "  type  of  study,  and  applies  it  to  the 
practical  by  defining  "  Ethics  as  the  science  or  study  of  what  is  right 
or  what  ought  to  be"  (p.  4).  So  that,  as  Sidgwick  uses  them,  the 
terms  science  and  theory  are  interchangeable,  and  there  is  no  contra- 
diction in  speaking  of  practical  theory,  just  as  we  speak  of  ethics  as  a 
practical  science.  It  is  quite  evident  here  that  the  usual  distinction 
between  theoretical  and  practical  science  is  Sidgwick's  distinction  be- 
tween "  positive  "  and  "  practical,"  and  that  theory  is  but  another  name 
for  science  in  general.  Now  it  is  also  evident  that  what  follows  in 
Sidgwick's  book  is  not  ethics,  for  its  subject-matter  is  not  the  study  of 
what  ought  to  be,  but  a  study  of  the  methods  of  knowing  what  ought 
to  be.  It  is  "methods  of  ethics."  Now  the  science  of  methods  of 
ethics  is  a  "positive,"  not  a  practical  theory/and  so  we  get  still  another 
distinction,  namely,  between  the  "  theoretical  study  of  right  conduct " 
or  "the  theory  of  ethics"  and  "its  practical  applications"  (p.  I2).2 
These  "  practical  applications,"  it  would  seem,  are  none  other  than  the 
practical  study  (or  theory)  above  called  ethics,  which  could  now 
scarcely  be  called  theory  in  the  same  sense  in  which  he  here  speaks  of 
"  the  theory  of  ethics,"  and  which  might,  therefore,  be  called  practical. 
In  other  words  theory  can  not  mean  the  same  thing  when  opposed  to 

1  H.  Sidgwick:  Methods  of  Ethics,  sth  ed.,  p.  xvii. 

2  Page   12:  "  The  theory  of  Ethics  would  seem  to  be  somewhat  impeded  by  the  prepon- 
derance of  practical  considerations;  and  perhaps  a  more  complete  detachment  of  the  theoretical 
study  of  right  conduct  from  its  practical  application  is  to  be  desired  for  the  sake  even  of  the 
latter  itself." 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  3 

practise  as  it  does  when  it  is  opposed  to  practical  science.  Sidgwick 
is  an  unusually  careful  writer,  and  the  fact  that  even  he  is  not  con- 
sistent in  his  use  of  these  terms  is  an  index  of  the  general  confusion 
which  hovers  about  them.  But  this  much  at  least  seems  clear,  that 
we  are  not  dealing  here  merely  with  the  distinction  between  science 
and  art,  but  with  a  distinction  between  kinds  of  science,  i.  e.,  within 
science.  And  hence  it  is  important  to  try  to  discover  exactly  what  the 
distinction  means  and  just  how  theoretical  science  is  related  to  prac- 
tical science  or  the  pure3  to  the  applied.  So  we  shall  consider  several 
of  the  current  statements  of  this  relation. 

Perhaps  the  most  current  is  that  pure  science  lays  down  certain 
principles  and  that  applied  science  is  the  application  of  these  to  prac- 
tical affairs.  This  does  not  mean  that  practical  science  is  the  verifica- 
tion in  practise  of  the  theories  or  hypotheses  of  pure  science ;  it  merely 
means  that  the  discoveries  of  pure  science  are  utilized  by  practical 
science  with  reference  to  human  ends.  The  following  is  a  typical  / 
statement :  "  Pure  science  is  theoretical,  applied  science  practical.  The  ' 
first  seeks  to  establish  the  principles  of  the  science,  the  second  points 
out  their  actual  or  possible  applications."4  According  to  this  idea 
practical  science  is  simply  a  "  pointing  out "  affair.  The  implication  is 
that  the  applications  of  the  theoretical  principles  can  be  directly 
deduced  from  them,  or  that  the  principles  somehow  come  labeled  with 
their  applications.  The  principles  of  pure  science  are  supposed  to  have 
applications  in  much  the  same  way  as  a  bottle  of  medicine  has  direc- 
tions for  use  on  its  label ;  and  all  that  practical  science  has  to  do  is  to 
"  apply "  these  directions.  J.  S.  Mill  makes  a  more  careful  and  ex- 
plicit statement  of  this  view,  when  he  says:5  "Art6  brings  together 
from  parts  of  the  field  of  science  most  remote  from  one  another,  the 
truths  relating  to  the  production  of  the  different  and  heterogeneous 
conditions  necessary  to  each  effect  which  the  exigencies  of  practical 
life  require  to  be  produced."  The  whole  matter  hinges  around  the 
phrase,  "truths  relating  to  the  production."  If  the  truths  are  already 
given  to  practical  science  as  truths  relating  to  this  particular  prac- 
tical situation,  it  is  hard  to  see  in  what  sense  practical  science  can  be  / 
called  science,  for  there  is  nothing  problematic  about  the  situation, 
there  is  nothing  left  to  be  "  found  out,"  it  is  all  there  to  begin  with.  If 

3  There  is  an  obsolescent  use  of  the  term  "  pure  sciences  "  in  which  they  are  contrasted 
as  abstract,  deductive  sciences  to  the  concrete  and  inductive  sciences.     With  this  distinction 
we  are  not  concerned. 

4  L.  F.  Ward:  Pure  Sociology,  p.  3. 

5  Mill:  System  of  Logic,  loth  ed.,  Vol.  II,  p.  551. 

6  Mill  is  here  using  the  term  Art  in  the  sense  of  Practical   Science,   as  his  reference  to 
Bain  in  the  footnote  clearly  shows. 


4  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

the  principles  are  given  as  applying,  i.  e.,  guaranteed  for  this  situa- 
tion, there  is  nothing  left  for  practical  science  to  do,  except  to  follow 
directions,  and  this  can  hardly  be  called  science.  But  the  case  is  differ- 
'  ent,  if  practical  science  has  precisely  the  task  of  relating  theoretical 
truths  to  practical  problems,  if  it  has  to  discover  relations,  instead  of 
merely  applying  ready-made  ones.  For  this  would  require  a  scientific 
technique,  with  all  the  scientific  machinery  of  testing  and  verifying. 
Hence  the  phrase  "the  application  of  science,"  so  flippantly  used  in 
current  literature,  really  begs  the  whole  issue  as  to  the  nature  of 
applied  science,  for  the  problem  is,  whether  this  application  can  be 
effected  directly  with  an  advance  guarantee,  or  whether  the  "  applica- 
tion "  of  science  is  itself  a  genuine  science. 

A  second  notion  regarding  this  distinction  is  that  theoretical  science 
is  the  foundation  or  justification  for  practical  science.  This  idea  is 
more  current  in  ethical  literature  than  in  the  other  sciences.  It  is  still 
a  common  statement  that  theoretical  ethics  furnishes  the  basis,  founda- 
tion, justification  of  practical  ethics.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
ethics,  both  theoretical  and  practical,  is  not  yet  a  science.  A  quotation 
from  Mill  might  serve  again  to  illustrate :  "  Every  art  has  one  first 

/  principle,  or  general  major  premise,  not  borrowed  from  science ;  that 
which  enunciates  the  object  aimed  at,  and  affirms  it  to  be  a  desirable 
object.  .  .  .  For  the  purpose  of  practise,  every  one  must  be  required 
to  justify  his  approbation:  and  for  this  there  is  need  of  general 
premises,  determining  what  are  the  proper  objects  of  approbation,  and 
what  the  proper  order  of  precedence  among  those  objects."7  These 

\  general  premises  he  calls  a  "body  of  doctrine,"  "  the  doctrine  of  ends," 
*  "  first  principles  of  conduct,"  or  the  "  theory  of  the  foundations  of 
morality."8  Mill  saves  himself  by  making  this  "theory"  not  theoret- 
ical science,  but  theoretical  art ;  it  is  "  the  first  principles  of  conduct " 
as  opposed  to  the  "  first  principles  of  knowledge."9  Now,  according 
to  Mill,  the  first  principles  of  knowledge  are  really  "  the  last  results  of 
metaphysical  analysis."10  The  implications  of  Mill's  own  position, 

''Ibid.,  pp.  552-553. 

8  Pp.  553-555- 

9  P.  554- 

10  Mill's  logic  admits  that  in  the  realm  of  science  the  presumably  first  principles  are  not 
the  foundations  for  knowledge,  but  the  result  of  logical  analysis;  that  the  major  premises,  in 
other  words,  are  not  starting  points  for  thinking,  but  occupy  an  intermediate  position  in   the 
passage  from  particular  to  particular.     But  Mill  retains  in  the  realm  of  morals,  practise  and 
art,  the  old  idea  that  the  major  premises  are  the   foundations.      Cf.   the   following   from   his 
Utilitarianism,    pp.    2-3 :    "  The    truths   which    are    ultimately    accepted    as    the    first    principles 
of  science,   are  really  the  last   results  of  metaphysical  analysis,   practised   on   the  elementary 
notions  with  which  the  science  is  conversant.  .  .  .  But  though  in  science  the  particular  truths 
precede  the  general  theory,  the  contrary  might  be  expected  to  be  the  case  with  a  practical  art, 
such  as  morals  or  legislation.     All  action  is  for  the  sake  of  some  end,  and  rules  of  action  .  .  . 
must  take  their  whole  character  and  colour  from  the  end  to  which  they  are  subservient." 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  5 

therefore,  are  that  if  ethics  were  to  become  a  genuine  science,  it  would 
have  as  little  need  for  a  theoretical  ethics  to  give  practical  ethics  a 
foundation  or  justification,  as  any  other  science.  The  only  justifica- 
tion which  a  practical  science  of  morals  needs  is  the  fact  of  morality. 
This  exists  as  a  natural  fact,  and  can  no  more  be  justified  by  ethical 
theory  than  astronomy  can  justify  the  moon.  A  practical  principle  or 
rule  of  conduct  is  not  justified  by  referring  it  to  "  major  premises  "  or 
"  first  principles,"  but  by  its  consequences.  In  the  physical  sciences 
this  now  goes  without  saying ;  and  the  failure  to  admit  it  in  the  moral 
sciences  is  due  to  the  desire  to  rationalize  existing  practise,  instead  of 
making  practise  rational.11  If,  as  Mill  assumes,  "  all  action  is  for  the 
sake  of  some  end,"  his  conclusion  is  justified;  for  then  the  field  of 
action  is  distinguished  from  the  field  of  nature  by  its  purposive  con- 
stitution ;  and  "  the  first  principles  of  conduct "  bear  a  different  relation 
to  practical  science  than  the  first  principles  of  knowledge  bear  to  theo- 
retical science.  But  if  the  world  of  action  or  practise  is  no  more  in- 
herently purposive  and  rational  than  the  physical  universe,  the  analogy 
between  the  physical  and  moral  sciences  is  quite  complete.  It  is  one 
thing  to  say  that  human  conduct  can  be  made  more  rational  than  it  is, 
and  another  to  say  that  it  is  inherently  rational  or  purposive  to 
begin  with. 

Thirdly  there  are  a  large  group  of  theories  which  base  the  distinc- 
tion between  theoretical  and  practical  science  more  directly  on  a  differ- 
ence of  subject-matter.  We  have  already  noted  a  very  common  one  in 
Sidgwick,  namely,  that  theoretical  (positive)  science  has  to  do  with 
what  is,  and  practical  science  with  what  ought  to  be.  Kant,  Wundt 
and  others  make  the  subject-matter  of  theoretical  (speculative)  sci- 
ence the  necessary  laws  of  nature,  and  of  practical  science,  the  will  or 
volitions  of  man.12  But  it  will  be  noticed  that  most  of  these  distinc- 
tions are  apologetic  in  origin.  They  are  employed  to  rationalize  vari- 
ous ethical  systems.  And,  although  we  can  find  some  general  similar- 
ities among  them,  we  shall  do  better  to  turn  to  the  natural  sciences, 
where  the  distinction  is  no  longer  in  dispute,  and  where  we  can  see  its 
actual  meaning  in  practise,  rather  than  its  use  in  moral  dialectics. 

Without  attempting  any  empirical  proof  or  justification,  except 
such  as  the  following  chapters  may  offer,  I  submit  that  what  we  actu- 
ally find  in  the  organization  of  science  is  the  distinction  between  reflec- 
tive and  deliberative  thinking,  or  between  reflection  and  evaluation, 

11  V.  Levy-Bruhl:  Ethics  and  Moral  Science,  pp.  79,  154-157. 

12  Note  also  Aristotle's  distinction  between  Being  or  Existence  and  Becoming  or  Genera- 
tion:    tiriarrini)  irepl  rb  6v,  rexv?l  irepi  -ytveaiv.      Post.   Analytics,   B  19. 


6  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

and  that  this  distinction  is  a  distinction  of  subject-matter.  Reflective 
science  inquires  into  the  problems  of  structure  and  seeks  to  formulate 
natural  laws ;  deliberative  science  inquires  into  the  problems  of  activ- 
ity, and  seeks  to  expand  human  control  over  nature.  The  object  of 
reflection  is  discovery;  the  object  of  evaluation  is  invention.  The 
former  is  the  discovery  of  structures,  the  latter  the  invention  of  goods. 
Hence,  we  might  call  theoretical  science  structural,  and  practical  sci- 
ence evaluative.  Now  there  is  nothing  very  new  or  startling  about  this 
distinction,  and  it  may  be  accepted  as  a  platitude,  so  far  as  this  goes. 
But  the  important  problem  is  the  relation  which  exists  between  them, 
between  the  discovery  of  structures  and  the  invention  of  goods. 

The  thesis  here  developed  is  that  the  discovery  of  structures  is 
made  not  antecedent  to  invention,  but  within  it ;  and  that  in  invention 
these  discoveries  function  as  instruments  of  control. 

This  implies  several  things.  It  implies,  in  the  first  place,  the  fact 
of  structure.  For  the  natural  laws  which  structural  science  formulates 
can  only  be  instruments  of  control  if  they  are  genuine  discoveries.  If 
the  world  were  not  structural,  the  formulae  of  science  (if  possible  at 
all)  could  not  be  instruments  of  control,  they  would  be  stumbling- 
blocks.  In  fact,  all  control  would  be  impossible.  In  a  chaotic  world, 
activity  would  forever  be  the  slave  of  chance  and  caprice;  in  a  world 
of  law,  freedom  of  activity  is  possible. 

It  is  implied  in  the  second  place,  that  the  distinction  is  due  to  dis- 
tinct subject-matter  and  objects.  Structural  science  deals  with  the 
relations  between  facts,  with  "  objective  reality,"  with  nature.  Its 
object  is  the  discovery  of  causal  relations,  the  formulation  of  natural 
laws  and  limits  of  action.  If  we  could  use  "  nature  "  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  art,  as  did  the  Greeks,  we  might  call  it  natural  science.  It  is 
the  interpretation  of  nature  in  terms  of  structure.  Evaluative  science, 
on  the  other  hand,  deals  with  agenda,13  with  things  to  be  done.  Its 
object  is  the  determination  of  a  course  of  action.  The  distinction  is 
thus  based  on  the  fundamental  distinction  between  structure  and 
activity. 

A  third  implication  is  that  of  interdependence.  That  evaluative  or 
applied  science  is  dependent  upon  structural  science,  is  quite  evident, 
for  without  it,  it  would  be  like  a  workman  without  tools.  But  struc- 
tural science  or  "  pure  "  science  is  supposed  to  be  quite  independent  and 
self -sufficing  in  its  purity,  and  hence  the  following  considerations  are 
of  weight:  (i)  the  discovery  of  structures  has  meaning  only  with 
reference  to  the  process  of  control.  The  history  of  science  itself  should 

**  V.  Dewey:  Essays  in  Experimental  Logic,  p.  335. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  7 

be  sufficient  to  prove  this,  for  the  discovery  of  natural  structures  is 
always  linked  up  with  a  demand  for  control.  But  even  theoretically, 
what  possible  meaning  would  the  attempt  to  discover  structures  have 
apart  from  the  increased  control  which  man  gains  thereby  ?  The  facts 
by  themselves  are  not  structural,  they  simply  are;  and  to  find  struc- 
tural relationships  in  them,  is  to  find  a  possibility  of  handling  them.14 
There  is  an  apparent  contradiction  in  saying  on  the  one  hand  that  the 
laws  of  nature  are  genuine  discoveries,  and  on  the  other  that  they  are 
instruments  of  control.  But  really  both  statements  express  the  same 
fact  only  from  opposite  view  points.  If  we  are  defining  the  fact  from 
the  point  of  view  of  structural  science,  we  define  it  in  terms  of  rela- 
tionships discovered  among  facts  of  nature ;  if  we  are  defining  it  from 
the  point  of  view  of  human  art,  we  define  it  in  terms  of  its  function  in 
the  process  of  human  control.  The  difference  lies  not  in  the  fact  itself, 
but  in  the  standpoints  with  reference  to  which  it  is  defined. 

(2)  It  is  impossible  to  discover  structures  except  by  attempting  to 
control  facts.  In  other  words,  structures  are  discovered  as  the  limits 
of  activity,  as  its  limitations,  as  impasses,  as  impossibilities.  They 
represent  what  we  can't  change.  Man  at  first  tries  to  do  anything  and 
everything,  and  only  gradually  learns  what  he  can  and  can't  do.  Thus 
the  discovery  of  structures  is  incidental  to  the  attempt  at  control,  rather 
than  vice  versa. 

And  this  leads  directly  to  a  fourth  general  implication  of  the  rela- 
tion between  the  two  sciences,  namely,  the  experimental  method.  From 
the  statement  made  above,  that  the  test  of  the  genuineness  of  a  struc- 
tural discovery  is  its  ability  to  serve  as  a  tool  of  control,  it  might  be 
inferred  that  applied  science  was  the  verification  of  the  hypotheses  of 
pure  science.  And  this  would  be  true,  were  it  not  for  the  establishment 
of  the  experimental  technique.  It  would  be  absurd  to  call  the  verifica- 
tion carried  on  in  physical  and  chemical  laboratories  "  applied r'  sci- 
ence, because  hypotheses  are  there  being  put  to  work.  For  the  experi- 
mental technique  is  precisely  a  method  by  which  pure  or  structural 
science  can  carry  on  verification,  without  having  to  wait  for  the 
cruder  and  slower  verification  afforded  in  "  real  life/'15  It  is  precisely 
because  the  structural  sciences  have  been  able  to  create  these  test  con- 
ditions and  experimental  apparatus  that  they  have  gained  a  greater 
independence  and  have  been  able  to  far  outrun  the  discoveries  which 

"  V.  Ibid.,  p.  344. 

15  Of  course,  the  test  of  practical  science  is  an  added  confirmation ;  and  if  a  structural 
formula  is  found  not  to  work  when  applied,  it  means  that  the  experimental  verification  of  pure 
science  has  been  faulty  or  incomplete.  But  as  a  rule,  the  engineer,  e.g.,  does  not  try  to  verify 
the  laws  of  motion;  he  takes  them  for  granted. 


8  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

the  conditions  of  "  real  life  "  make  possible.  And  that  is  why  pure  and 
applied  science  are  far  less  distinct  in  the  social  sciences.  Social  ex- 
perimentation has  not  yet  been  able  to  separate  itself  from  actual  social 
life  to  any  great  extent,  and  it  probably  never  will  be  able  to  separate 
itself  in  the  same  degree  as  in  the  physical  sciences.  Hence  the  dis- 
covery of  natural  structures  by  social  science  will  always  be  more  or 
less  dependent  upon  actual  efforts  at  social  control,  and  the  evaluative 
sciences  will  be  the  verification  of  the  structural  social  sciences,  or  in 
other  words,  the  discovery  of  structures  and  the  invention  of  goods 
will  be  complementary  functions  of  one  experimental  process. 

For  the  invention  of  goods  requires  an  experimental  technique  as 
well  as  does  structural  science.  Goods  can  not  be  inferred  directly 
from  structural  principles ;  they  must  be  found  out  by  experimental 
verification.  Evaluation  is  hence  a  genuine  science.  This  experimen- 
tation is  made  more  efficient  by  a  knowledge  of  structural  relations 
and  natural  mechanisms,  but  these  are  tools  in  the  process  of  con- 
trol. They  are  not  principles  of  practise,  but  principles  for  prac- 
tise. Hence  knowledge  of  what  to  do,  of  what  ought  to  be,  of  goods, 
is  just  as  much  a  product  of  experiment  as  knowledge  of  natural  laws. 
It  can  not  be  acquired  either  by  intuition,  or  by  direct  "  application," 
or  by  following  unreflectively  the  way  which  structural  science  points 
out.  For  structural  science  points  no  way  at  all.  Structural  science  is 
instrumental  in  solving  these  practical  problems,  but  of  itself  it  does 
not  solve  them.  That  is  the  task  of  evaluative  science. 

Now  just  as  it  is  more  efficient  to  have  the  proper  tools  ready  at 
hand,  than  to  be  compelled  to  first  make  them,  so  it  is  advantageous 
for  evaluative  science  to  have  reliable  tools  made  ahead  of  time  by 
structural  science.  And  hence  human  control  has  been  greatly  ex- 
panded by  the  separation  in  actual  practise  of  pure  and  applied  science. 
But  if  the  separation  means  a  sacrifice  of  experimental  method  and 
actual  verification,  it  can  not  be  justified ;  for  that  would  only  hamper 
control,  by  furnishing  it  with  stumbling-blocks  in  the  guise  of  tools. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  return  to  ethics,  and  ask :  what  does 
being  a  theoretical  or  practical  science  imply  for  ethics  ?  It  is  evident 
from  the  foregoing  discussion,  that  if  moral  science  is  theoretical,  it 
presupposes  moral  structures.  A  scientific  theory  of  morals  would  be 
in  no  sense  "  normative,"  nor  concerned  with  formulating  precepts, 
maxims,  rules  for  action  or  moral  laws  in  any  legislative  sense.  Its 
subject-matter  would  be  an  "  objective  ethical  reality,"  to  use  Levy- 
Bruhl's  term,  and  its  object  would  be  the  discovery  of  its  natural  struc- 
tures. It  would  be  a  natural  science  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  9 

There  is  nothing  a  priori,  transcendental  or  non-empirical  about  it.  It 
has  a  concrete  subject-matter  of  inquiry  within  the  general  domain  of 
nature. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  ethics  is  a  practical  science,  its  business  is 
valuation.  Its  subject-matter  is  concrete  practical  problems  demand- 
ing action.  It  does  not  start  from  a  final  end,  nor  presuppose  a  Doc- 
trine of  Ends,  as  Mill  has  it.  It  can  not  claim  to  be  independent  of 
the  realm  of  facts,  of  the  "  is,"  and  of  natural  laws,  for  these  are  its 
instruments  of  control.  And  it  is  not  a  mere  "application"  of  prin- 
ciples layed  down  by  theoretical  science.  It  is  itself  a  genuine  science, 
requiring  an  experimental  technique  and  issuing  in  knowledge. 

Here  a  word  of  criticism  of  Levy-Bruhl's  distinction  between  the 
science  des  mceurs  and  the  art  moral  rationnel™  is  relevant.  By  a 
science  des  mceurs  he  means  "the  positive  study  of  social  reality" 
(p.  154),  "that  is,  the  scientific  analysis  of  the  past  of  different  human 
/societies  and  of  the  laws  which  rule  the  different  series  of  social 
phenomena  and  their  relations  "  (p.  232) .  "  That  reality  no  more  than 
the  other  (the  physical)  is  to  be  '  constructed '  or  '  founded.'  It  is,  like 
the  other,  to  be  observed,  analyzed,  and  reduced  to  laws"  (p.  154). 
The  art  moral  rationnel  is  "an  art  comparable  with  mechanics  and 
medicine.  The  art  will  make  use  of  the  knowledge  of  sociological  and 
psychological  laws  to  improve  existing  manners  and  institutions  just  as 
mechanics  and  medicine  utilize  the  knowledge  of  mathematical,  phys- 
ical, chemical  and  biological  laws.  ...  It  will  only  be  formed  in  pro- 
portion to  the  progress  of  the  sciences  on  which  it  depends,  very  slowly 
perhaps,  by  successive  and  partial  inventions"  (p.  204).  This  distinc- 
tion appears  to  be  identical  with  that  made  in  this  chapter,  and  it  differs 
more  in  its  implications  than  in  its  explicit  statement.  One  implication 
is  that  of  moral  structures.  This  will  be  taken  up  in  the  next  chapter 
and  need  not  concern  us  here.  Another  is  the  implication  of  posi- 
tivistic  rather  than  scientific  or  experimental  social  science.  It  is 
implied  that  there  are  a  host  of  distinct  facts,  which  can  be  observed 
directly,  and  which  need  but  to  be  related  in  order  to  give  a  "  knowl- 
edge of  the  social  reality  "  adequate  for  the  rational  moral  art.  Hence 
a  valid  knowledge  of  social  structures  is  supposed  to  be  gained  quite 
independently  of  social  experimentation.  Verification  is  supposed  to 
antedate  "intervention,"  instead  of  being  a  product  of  it.  A  third 
implication,  and  the  most  important,  is  that  the  knowledge  is  all  on  the 
side  of  structural  science,  and  that  the  art  moral  rationnel  is  not  itself 

16  L.  Levy-Bruhl :  La  morale  et  le  science  des  mceurs.  English  translation  (not  very  good) 
by  Elizabeth  Lee:  Ethics  and  Moral  Science,  London,  1905.  References  are  to  the  translation. 
See  especially,  Chapters  IV  and  IX. 


IO  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

science,  but  an  art  based  on  science.  This  means  that  moral  knowl- 
edge is  all  acquired  by  the  science  des  mceurs,  and  that  "  moral  art "  is 
but  an  application  of  a  knowledge  externally  acquired,  rather  than 
itself  an  intellectual  activity.  Levy-Bruhl  speaks  of  the  art  moral 
rationnel  as  being  based  on  social  science,  derived  from  it,  following 
after  it,  subordinate  to  it,  the  "  practical  applications  "  of  it,  etc.  These 
phrases  seem  to  imply  that  the  moral  art  can  be  somehow  directly 
derived  from  social  science  as  its  basis,  and  the  fact  is  overlooked,  that 
both  social  science,  which  is  structural,  and  the  art  moral  rationnel, 
which  is  evaluative,  are  correlative  scientific  enterprises,  each  having  a 
distinct  scientific  function,  but  neither  independent  of  the  other. 

But  these  criticisms  are  after  all  minor  points,  and  the  discussion  of 
this  chapter,  as  of  the  succeeding  chapters,  has  gained  much  from  Levy- 
Bruhl's  work.  His  chief  contention,  and  the  contention  of  this  essay, 
is  that  the  further  extension  of  human  control  over  nature,  particularly 
over  social  nature,  can  only  be  accomplished  with  the  adoption  in  the 
social  and  moral  sciences  of  those  methods  of  scientific  reflection  and 
deliberation  which  have  secured  our  control  over  physical  nature. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SEARCH   FOR  MORAL   STRUCTURES 

John  Stuart  Mill  made  the  remark1  that  ethics  has  been  "not  so 
much  a  guide  as  a  consecration."  And  the  more  one  reflects  on  the 
character  of  traditional  ethical  theory,  the  more  one  is  compelled  to 
realize  the  truth  and  pertinency  of  this  remark,  for  ethical  theory  has 
concerned  itself  not  so  much  with  discovering  human  goods  and  the 
means  of  their  attainment,  as  with  discovering  how  to  sanction  most 
satisfactorily  a  morality  which  is  largely  taken  for  granted.  Levy- 
Bruhl  has  emphasized  this  fact  by  pointing  out  that  the  various  ethical 
systems  of  a  given  period,  while  differing  widely  in  their  theoretical 
formulation,  are  very  similar  on  their  concrete,  practical  side.2  Men 
differ  less  in  the  morality  which  they  practise,  than  in  their  ways  of 
sanctioning  it. 

The  religious  sanction  has  always  been  powerful,  and  the  social 
sanction  still  more  so.  But  neither  has  proven  sufficient  by  itself,  for 
men  have  tried  at  all  times  to  add  a  rational  sanction.  Scholasticism, 
which  tried  to  unify  the  rational  and  the  religious  sanctions,  was  very 
powerful  indeed.  But  with  the  break-up  of  both  medieval  religion  and 
medieval  science,  the  demand  for  sanctions  became  most  urgent.  So 
men  began  to  rake  nature  high  and  low  for  moral  sanctions,  and  the 
task  of  finding  a  "  basis  "  for  morality  has  remained  one  of  the  chief 
diversions  of  moralists  to  this  day. 

Just  how  it  is  that  this  speculative  or  theoretical  inquiry  has  such  a 
great  sanctioning  power,  may  be  explained  by  recalling  what  was  said 
in  the  previous  chapter.  We  said  there  that  theoretical  inquiry  seeks 
to  discover  structures.  This  is  exactly  what  moral  theorists  have 
attempted  to  do — to  find  moral  structures  in  nature.  And  having 
found  these,  having  found  moral  principles  embedded  in  nature  herself, 
they  could  rest  secure.  For  what  surer  foundation  or  firmer  basis 
could  there  be  ?  For  if  the  moral  law  is  a  fixed,  eternal  law  of  nature, 
morality  ceases  to  be  dependent  on  contingent  situations  and  empirical 
happenings,  and  possesses  the  absolute  sanction  and  guarantee  of 
nature  herself.  Human  goods  are  then  not  merely  human  goods,  but 

1  Utilitarianism,  p.  5. 

2  Ethics  and  Moral  Science,  pp.  28  ff. 


12  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

natural  laws.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  more  powerful 
sanction  than  this.  Hence  the  persistency  of  the  search  for  moral 
structures.  I  shall  try  to  indicate  in  the  following  pages  several  types 
of  moral  structures  which  men  have  found  in  nature,  illustrating  each 
by  reference  to  some  of  the  modern  moralists. 

Perhaps  the  simplest  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  compelling  type 
of  structure  is  that  represented  by  the  laws  of  mathematical3  reasoning. 
Not  only  was  this  type  of  structure  one  of  the  first  to  be  discovered 
and  formulated,  but  there  has  been  a  constant  effort  to  reduce  other 
types  to  it.  And  hence  it  is  but  natural  that  the  search  for  mathemat- 
ical structures  in  morals  is  a  very  persistent  enterprise.  For  let  a  man 
set  out  to  find  some  sort  of  absolute  certainty  in  the  seeming  uncer- 
tainties of  the  moral  life,  and  where  would  he  sooner  turn  than  with 
J)escartes  to  the  "  exact "  sciences  ?  The  Cartesians  and  Empiricists 
indeed  turned  their  back  on  them,  and  appealed  to  more  immediate 
experience,  but  this  appeal  was  in  the  interests  of  reform,  of  dethroning 
established  sanctions,  and  was  usually  abandoned  when  they  in  turn 
sought  to  sanction  something  new. 

We  can  imagine  how  words  like  the  following  from  Hume  must 
have  irritated  a  man  like  Kant,  who  was  heart  and  soul  in  the  search 
for  certainty.  "  What  theory  of  morals  can  ever  serve  any  useful  pur- 
pose, unless  it  can  show  by  a  particular  detail,  that  all  the  duties  which 
it  recommends  are  also  the  true  interests  of  each  individual?"4  What 
sort  of  certainty  is  that,  which  speaks  of  particular  details  and  duties, 
interests  and  individuals  ?  No,  this  will  not  do  for  Kant.  He  realizes 
that  such  a  method  can  never  yield  the  absolute  and  universal  certainty 
which  he  demands.5  So  he  goes  about  the  problem  in  a  different  way. 
He  looks  for  universal,  a  priori  moral  laws  in  nature — universal  forms, 
independent  of  "  interests,"  "  particular  duties,"  etc.  Given  these,  the 
rest  of  morality  can  be  deduced  mathematically,  and  morality  becomes 
as  "  pure  "  as  you  please. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  describe  these  familiar  forms,  or  mathe- 
matical structures  of  Kant's  theory.  It  would  be  more  profitable  to 
note  a  similar  procedure  in  a  modern  realist.  G.  E.  Moore,  in  his 
Principia  Ethica,  is  free  from  Kant's  metaphysical  machinery,  but  he 
tries  to  do  a  very  similar  thing  for  ethics.  It  is  the  business  of  ethics, 
according  to  him,  to  "  enumerate  all  true  universal  judgments  "  regard- 
ing intrinsic  good.  These  must  not  assert  any  causal  or  temporal  rela- 

3  The  term  "  mathematical  "  is  here  used  in  its  broadest  sense.     It  embraces  what  is  usu- 
ally termed  "  logical  "  or  dialectical  reasoning. 

4  Hume:  Enquiry  into  the  Principles  of  Morals,  Pt.  II,  sec.  IX,  p.  228. 
6  Kant:  Theory  of  Ethics  (Abbott),  pp.  125-126. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  13 

tions,  for  then  they  would  not  assert  universal  truths,  but  only  general 
truths,  namely,  that  such  and  such  effects  generally  follow.  Intrinsic 
goods  can  only  be  determined  in  isolation,  independent  of  all  causal  or 
temporal  relations.  "  It  is  necessary  to  consider  what  things  are  such 
that,  if  they  existed  by  themselves,  in  absolute  isolation,  we  should  yet 
judge  their  existence  to  be  good."6 

This  indicates  in  bare  outline  the  mathematical  character  of  Moore's 
theory.7  It  is  just  as  much  a  pure  mathematics  of  morals  as  is  that  of 
Kant.  It  is  not  merely  an  attempt  to  think  accurately  and  to  make 
ethics  an  "exact"  science;  it  is  also  an  attempt  to  find  mathematical 
structures  in  morality,  i.  e.,  universal  relations  expressible  only  in  prop- 
ositions of  mathematical  precision. 

But  this  formal  aspect  of  moral  judgments  and  goods  is  not  the 
only  department  of  moral  inquiry  which  has  been  put  into  a  mathe- 
matical mold.  An  interesting  example  of  another  kind  of  mathematical 
structure  is  found  in  Rousseau/ s  inquiry  into  the  Principles  of  Political 
Right  or  the  Social  Contract.  His  first  words  frankly  state  his  pur- 
pose in  this  essay :  "  I  mean  to  inquire,"  says  he,  "  if  in  the  civil  order 
there  can  be  any  sure  and  legitimate  rule  of  administration."  And  a 
little  further  down  he  tells  us  that  the  question  which  he  is  trying  to 
answer  is :  "  What  can  make  it  [the  change  from  natural  freedom  to 
social  bonds]  legitimate?"  The  term  "legitimate"  is  used  here  not  in 
the  legal  sense,  but  rather  in  the  sense  of  "justifiable."  Evidently, 
then,  he  is  trying  to  justify,  sanction,  legitimize  something.  But  not 
only  must  this  "  rule  of  administration  "  be  legitimate,  it  must  also  be 
"  sure,"  that  is,  absolutely  certain,  absolutely  valid ;  or  better,  in  order 
that  it  may  be  "  legitimate  "  it  must  be  absolutely  "  sure."  In  other 
words  Rosseau  is  trying  to  find  an  absolute  standard,  by  which  to  judge 
the  civil  administration;  and  he  does  it  by  mathematical  reasoning. 
What  Spinoza's  Ethica  did  for  metaphysics,  Rousseau's  Social  Con- 
tract did  for  morals.  It  is  moral  philosophy  more  geometrico  demon- 
strata.  It  begins  with  a  few  simple  propositions,  axioms,  we  might 
call  them,  such  as :  "  Man  is  born  free,"  "  His  first  law  is  to  provide 
for  his  own  preservation,"  "  Liberty  can  not  be  alienated,"  etc.  From 
these  he  draws  conclusions  which  must  necessarily  follow  logically. 
New  propositions  and  corollaries  are  thus  produced,  until  the  whole 
logical  structure  of  society  is  reared.  The  chief  requirement  of  such  a 
treatise  is  that  it  shall  be  logically,  deductively,  mathematically  sound, 

8  G.  E.  Moore:  Principle  Ethica,  p.  187. 

7  Only  half  of  the  Principia  is  here  touched  upon,  the  theoretical  problem  of  the  good; 
the  other  part  is  the  practical  problem  of  right  and  duty,  which  is  a  problem  of  cause  and 
effect,  of  consequences  and  instrumental  goods.  He  separates  the  two  rigidly. 


14  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

that  the  conclusions  shall  follow  from  the  premises.  It  is  absolute  and 
universal.  Granting  the  premises,  the  rest  follows  logically.  The 
axioms  are  themselves  not  particular  facts  of  experience,  concrete 
existences,  but  general  propositions  which  seem  to  be  too  simple  to 
require  or  be  capable  of  proof.  The  treatise  as  a  whole,  therefore,  like 
a  geometry  is  absolute  and  has  universal  logical  validity,  even  though 
it  may  have  no  practical  application.  It  is  accurate,  precise  and  rigor- 
ous. It  would  be  meaningless  to  say :  the  General  Will  is  usually  about 
right,  just  as  much  as  it  would  be  meaningless  to  say:  the  angles  of  a 
triangle  are  usually  about  equal  to  two  right  angles.  By  definition  the 
General  Will  =  Right.  It  is  not  a  question  of  approximation  in  fact, 
but  a  system  of  absolute  rational  relations.  What  we  have  here  in 
Rousseau,  then,  is  a  body  of  political  rights  and  social  obligations  trans- 
formed into  mathematical  structures,  for  the  sake  of  justifying  or 
sanctioning  a  "  rule  of  administration." 

Another  type  of  mathematical  structure  is  found  in  Bentham's 
pleasure-pain  calculus.  It  is  based  on  the  axiom8  that  "  Nature  has 
placed  mankind  under  the  governance  of  two  sovereign  masters,  pain 
and  pleasure."9  Pains  and  pleasure  vary  in  value  according  to  intens- 
ity, duration,  certainty,  propinquity,  fecundity,  purity  and  extent. 
From  this  follows  the  calculus,  which  we  quote  in  Bentham's  words  :10 

"  Sum  up  all  the  values  of  all  the  pleasures  on  the  one  side,  and  those 
of  all  the  pains  on  the  other.  The  balance,  if  it  be  on  the  side  of  pleasure, 
will  give  the  good  tendency  of  the  act  on  the  whole,  with  respect  to  the 
interests  of  that  particular  person;  if  on  the  side  of  pain,  the  bad  tendency 
of  it  on  the  whole.  .  .  . 

"  Take  an  account  of  the  number  of  persons  whose  interests  appear  to 
be  concerned;  and  repeat  the  above  process  with  respect  to  each.  Sum  up 
the  numbers  expressive  of  the  degrees  of  good  tendency,  which  the  act  has, 
with  respect  to  each  individual,  in  regard  to  whom  the  tendency  of  it  is 
good  upon  the  whole:  do  this  again  with  respect  to  each  individual,  in 
regard  to  whom  the  tendency  of  it  is  bad  on  the  whole.  Take  the  balance." 

Bentham  did  not  intend  this  as  a  practical  advice  or  device,  for  he 
immediately  adds,  that  "  it  is  not  expected  that  this  process  should  be 
strictly  pursued  previously  to  every  moral  judgment;"  but  he  did  intend 
it  as  an  accurate  theoretical  description  of  moral  judgment.  And  this 
implies  that  values  are  related  in  a  mathematical  way,  and  that,  if 

8  An  axiom  to  Bentham:  "  Is  it  susceptible  of  any  direct  proof?     It  should  seem  not:  for 
that  which  is  used  to  prove  everything  else,  can  not  itself  be  proved."     Principles  of  Morals 
and  Legislation,  I:  xi. 

9  Ibid.,  I,  i. 

10  Ibid.,  IV,  V,  5-6. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  15 

we  could  find  suitable  units  of  measure,  we  could  solve  the  problem 
algebraically. 

A  correlative  of  this  on  the  internal  side,  the  side  of  motive,  is 
found  in  Martineau's  moral  scale  of  instincts.11  Martineau  succeeds  in 
arranging  all  the  " propensions,  passions,  affections  and  sentiments" 
into  a  scale,  representing  their  order  of  moral  worth,  from  lowest  to 
highest,  beginning  with  censoriousness,  vindictiveness,  suspiciousness, 
up  to  compassion  and  reverence.  Each  spring  of  action  is  thus  given  a 
fixed  moral  status ;  so  that,  when  a  conflict  of  impulses  arises,  all  that 
needs  to  be  done  is  to  apply  this  slide  rule,  and  it  will  infallibly  tell 
which  is  right.  For  the  moral  rule  is  simply :  "  Every  action  is  right,  )C 
which,  in  presence  of  a  lower  principle,  follows  a  higher ;  every  action 
is  wrong,  which,  in  presence  of  a  higher  principle,  follows  a  lower." 
This  is  the  same  sort  of  a  situation  as  we  found  in  Bentham,  except 
that  here  the  greater  part  of  the  calculation  is  ready-made,  since  the 
scale  holds  good  absolutely;  and  then  too,  the  calculation  is  simpler, 
since  the  moral  scale  can  easily  be  memorized  or  carried  in  the  vest- 
pocket,  whereas  Bentham's  necessitates  double-entry  bookkeeping. 

These  rather  random  examples  will  suffice  to  illustrate  the  various 
attempts  which  have  been  made  to  discover  what  I  have  called  "  mathe- 
matical'' structures  in  morals.  A  second  type  might  be  called 
"mechanical"  structures.  The  aptness  of  the  terms  "mathematical" 
and  "  mechanical "  is  not  a  matter  of  prime  concern  here,  nor  is  the 
question  of  the  genuineness  of  the  structures.  What  does  concern  us 
here  is  the  fact  that  certain  fixed  relations  in  nature  are  selected  and 
given  moral  quality,  and  that  morality  is  consequently  made  a  part  of 
nature's  framework. 

Now  to  turn  to  the  mechanical  types.     It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
dwell  on  the  conception  of  "  natural  forces  "  as  controlling  and  direct-     >- 
ing  agencies  in  human  history.    Attempts  have  been  made  to  describe 
social  progress  and  even  the  course  of  evolution  in  general  in  terms  of 
the  interaction  and  equilibration  of  these  mechanical  forces.     The    ^ 
laisses  faire  doctrine  is,  of  course,  the  classic  form  of  this  idea.    But 
instead  of  going  into  the  mechanics  of  the  laissez  faire  doctrine,  I  shall 
pass  it  over,  except  in  connection  with  Spencer,  and  try  to  show  the 
same  idea  as  it  is  found  in  Marx  and  so-called  "  scientific  "  socialism. 

It  may  seem  rather  paradoxical  to  mention  Marx  in  connection 
with  moral  theory,  for  he  was  not  only  a  bitter  opponent  of  the  moral 
theories  of  his  day  and  moral  theory  in  general,  but  he  consistently 
refused  to  give  his  own  work  a  moral  flavor.  Morality  was  to  him 

"Martineau:  Types  of  Ethical  Theory,  II,  266,  270,  275. 


16  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

merely  a  sanction  for  bourgeois  supremacy.    He  justified  his  own  prac- 
tical program  not  by  a  new  moral  theory,  but  by  showing  its  inevitable- 

^  ness  and  natural  necessity;  thus  raising  it  beyond  the  pale  of  morals 
and  into  the  realm  of  science.  Nevertheless  his  followers  have  suc- 
ceeded in  moralizing  it,  and  it  rapidly  became  a  political  and  moral 
issue.  Marx  himself  yielded  to  some  extent,  as  is  shown  in  the  Com- 
munist Manifesto  of  1848  by  Marx  and  Engels. 

Here  he  tries  to  show  by  an  historical  and  economic  analysis  that 

t  the  speedy  collapse  of  capitalistic  society  is  inevitable.  He  shows  how 
the  interplay  of  existing  economic  forces  is  steadily  guiding  social 
changes  and  undermining  social  institutions,  and  how  it  is  but  a  ques- 
tion of  time  and  "  the  great  cataclysm  "  will  come.  The  problem  is  like 
a  problem  in  celestial  mechanics,  like  observing  the  collision  of  two 
stars,  or  like  calculating  the  path  of  a  comet.  Our  figures  are  not  so 
exact  and  our  measurements  not  so  fine,  but  the  movement  of  social 
progress  is  just  as  fixed  as  the  motion  of  the  stars,  and  the  results  just 
as  inevitable.  Thus  socialism  becomes  "scientific."  Marx  probably 
emphasized  this  theory  less  than  Engels,  and  Engels  less  than  their  fol- 
lowers. "  The  social  revolution,"  as  Marx's  " cataclysm"  came  to  be 
called,  became  the  corner  stone  of  socialistic  .theory,  and  the  Marxians 
were  put  into  a  frame  of  mind  very  similar  to  that  of  the  early  Chris- 
tians, who  expected  the  great  day  of  judgment  to  break  upon  them  at 
any  time.12  We  are  here  dealing  not  merely  with  the  discovery  of 
^  economic  laws,  but  with  the  conception  of  these  laws  as  regulating 
moral  forces  or  agencies,  which  make  for  social  progress.  One  might 
expect  that  the  theory  of  the  inevitable  cataclysm  would  lead  to  a  moral 
laissez  faire  doctrine,  and  there  is  something  anomalous  in  using  the 
theory  of  natural  necessity  to  sanction  a  social  propaganda.  It  sounds 
almost  ironical  to  read  on  one  page  of  the  Manifesto  about  the  "  new 
social  laws  [i.  e.,  natural  laws  of  social  development]  that  are  to  create 
these  conditions"  and  the  <c spontaneous  class-organization  of  the 
proletariat  "13  and  then  to  read  the  battle  cry :  "  Workmen  of  all 
nations,  unite ! "  It  leads  one  to  suspect  that  the  revolution  is  not  so 
inevitable  as  it  is  supposed  to  be.14 
i  But  this  is  beside  the  point.  What  interests  us  here  is  primarily 

J  Marx'sattenipt  to  mechanizehuman Lprggrps^.  "In  his  scheme  of 
events  Marx  conceded  us  nocrTalTceT'wriatever.  No  matter  from  what 
angle  we  might  view  our  future,  our  doom  was  fore-ordained.  The 

12  V.  John  Spargo:  Socialism. 

13  Communist  Manifesto,  Pt.  Ill,  sec.  3. 

14  Marx  has  a  way  out,  of  course,  by  saying  that  this  union  is  merely  to  hasten  the  coming 
of  the  inevitable. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  17 

concentration  of  industry  and  agriculture,  the  socialization  of  all  pro- 
duction, the  massing  of  all  wealth  and  capital  in  the  hands  of  the  few ; 
the  disappearance  of  the  middle  class,  the  steadily  growing  antagonism 
between  the  two  remaining  classes,  the  increasing  misery  of  the  prole- 
tariat, and  the  rapid  approach  of  the  life  and  death  struggle  between 
labor  and  capital ;  the  overwhelming  legions  of  the  proletariat,  and  the 
dwindling  number  of  capitalistic  magnates — all  these  tendencies  were 
making  socialism  inevitable/'15  And  all  these  tendencies  were  not  mere 
tendencies,  but  the  manifestations  of  uncontrollable,  inexorable,  me- 
chanical forces  which  were  working  themselves  out  in  human  society.16 
A  more  elaborate  formulation  of  such  mechanical  moral  laws  is 

^     found  in  Spencer,  who  spared  no  pains  in  making  them  as  exact  and  as 
general  as  possible.    There  is  no  need  of  rehearsing  the  familiar  form- 

l  ulas  here,  except  to  show  their  thoroughly  mechanical  nature  and  their 
moral  bearings.  The  whole  matter  can  be  boiled  down  to  this:  The 

J  absolutely  good  is  the  absolutely  pleasurable.  The  absolutely  pleasur- 
able is  found  only  in  perfectly  adapted  activity.  Evil  is  the  result  of 
temporary  inadaptation.  Adaptation  is  an  equilibration  of  forces.17 

I  This  equilibration  takes  place  in  the  cosmic  process  of  evolution,  "  for  \/ 
the  process  of  evolution  must  inevitably  favor  all  changes  of  nature  /* 
which  increase  life  and  augment  happiness. "18  This  process  is  mechan- 

>   ical  and  expressible  in  a  single  mechanical  formula.     "  By  the  term,      I 
civilization,  we  signify  the  adaptation  which  has  already  taken  place.   ' 

I    The  changes  that  constitute  progress  are  the  successive  steps  of  the 
transition.  .  .  .    The  inference  that  as  advancement  has  hitherto  been 
the  rule,  it  will  be  the  rule  henceforth,  may  be  called  a  plausible  specu- 
lation.   But  when  it  is  shown  that  this  advancement  is  due  to  the  work-  J 
ing  of  a  universal  law ;  and  that  in  virtue  of  that  law  it  must  continue 

i  until  the  state  we  call  perfection  is  reached,  then  the  advent  of  such  a 
state  is  removed  out  of  the  region  of  probability  into  that  of  cer-  ^ 

I     tainty."19    The  moral  progress  of  man  is  hence  in  nature's  hands.     It  / 
behooves  man  simply  to  discover  what  nature  is  doing,  and  then  to 
obey.    "  To  think  we  can  better  ourselves  by  deserting  the  road  marked 

\  out  for  us,  is  an  impious  assumption  of  more  than  divine  omniscience."20 
Soothe  practical  conclusion  is:  laissez  faire  lqjn.n.turj> 

This  is,  of  course,  the  barest  outline  of  Spencer's  philosophy  of 

15  Simkhovitch  :  Marxism  vs.  Socialism,  p.  225.     V.  also  Chs.  X  and  XI. 
10  V.  Karl  Kautsky:  Ethics  and  the  Materialist  Conception  of  History,  Ch.  VI,  5,  d,  for 
.a  moral  formulation  of  Marxism. 

«  Principles  of  Biology,  Pt.  Ill,  Chs.  XI,  XII,  XIII. 
»8  Principles  of  Ethics,  II,  p.  432. 
19  Social  Statics,  p.  78. 
2°  Ibid.,  p.  65. 


i 


18  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

morals,  but  I  think  it  is  sufficient  to  illustrate  the  point  at  hand,  namely, 
the  attempt  jto_jtriakejmoral  forces  out  of  mechanical -structures.  It  is 
interesting  to  note  that  Spencer's  "  First  Principles,"  which  are  purely 
mechanical  formulae,  were  first  developed  not  as  the  "  Law  of  Evolu- 
tion," but  as  the  "  Law  of  Progress."21  His  primary  interest  seems  to 
have  been  not  so  much  the  scientific  one  of  discovering  natural  laws, 
as  the  practical  one  of  transferring  human  progress  from  human  con- 
trol to  natural  necessity.  "Thus  progress  is  not  an  accident,  not  a 
thing  within  human  control,  but  a  beneficent  necessity."22 

But  in  this  discussion  of  mechanical  structures  we  have  already 
entered  another  type  of  structure,  namely,  historical  structures,  or  as 
they  are  usually  termed,  laws  of  evolution.  We  have  just  seen  how 
Spencer  synthesized  mechanical  and  historical  structures.  Since  all 
mechanical  structures  involve  the  time  element,  it  is  natural  that  a 
"synthetic"  philosopher  like  Spencer  should  seek  to  formulate  the 
time  process  itself  in  mechanical  terms,  and  all  the  more  so  since  he  was 
so  greatly  under  the  influence  of  celestial  mechanics  and  the  astronomy 
of  LaPlace.  On  the  other  hand  Spencer  is  but  one  example  of  the 
attempt  to  explain  historical  processes  in  non-historical  terms.  Hegel, 
with  his  synthesis  of  Reason  and  History,  is  another  example.  The 
mere  mention  of  Geothe,  Fichte,  Marx,  Buckle,  suggest  other  "  philos- 
ophies of  history,"  of  which  the  nineteenth  century  is  full.  Indeed  the 
appeal  to  history  and  supposed  historical  structures  was  the  favorite 
sanction  for  nineteenth  century  morals,  and  it  would  make  an  interest- 
ing chapter  to  discuss  the  moral  implications  which  were  given  to  these 
pre-scientific  theories  of  evolution.  For  our  present  purposes,  how- 
ever, it  suffices  to  point  out  how  the  discovery  of  genuine  historical 
structures,  beginning  with  Darwin  and  biological  science,  has  influenced 
the  search  for  moral  structures. 

In  the  first  place  the  fact  of  evolution  was  used  to  give  scientific 
semblance  to  the  theological  idea  of  a  purposive  world  process.  For 
example :  "  We  observe,"  concludes  one  author,  "  that  there  is  a  moral 
order  in  history,  and  that  this  order  realizes  a  purpose  which  lies  be- 
neath the  plane  of  individuals  and  nations,  a  purpose,  therefore,  which 
is  divine.  As  the  course  of  history  is  followed,  it  is  seen  proceeding  on 
moral  lines."23  This  is,  of  course,  merely  a  variation  on  the  old  theme 
which  attributes  to  the  world  as  a  whole  a  moral  structure. 

More  significant  and  more  subtle  is  the  popular  idea,  closely  akin  to 
the  above,  that  evolution  inherently  and  of  itself  involves  progress. 

21  V,  Essays,  Vol.  I,  "  Progress,  its  Law  and  Cause." 

22  Ibid.,  p.  60. 

23  G.  Harris:  Moral  Evolution. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  IQ 

Evolutionary  laws  are  supposed  to  make  progress,  and  hence  they  are 
given  moral  quality.     Spencer  and  the  laisses  faire  theory  in  generaK  / 
have  contributed  a  great  deal  to  this  idea,  and  "  the  survival  of  the  \ 
fittest,"  "  adaptation  "  and  "  creative  evolution  "  have  been  pressed  to  ' 
the  limit  as  moral  laws. 

But  in  a  more  specific  way,  certain  biological  and  psychological 
structures  have  been  selected  as  being  peculiarly  and  intrinsically 
moral.  Certain  instincts,  for  example,  have  been  called  moral. 
Martineau,  as  we  saw  above,  goes  so  far  as  to  assign  moral  status  to 
all  instincts  and  emotions,  grading  them  on  a  fixed  moral  scale.  In  a 
similar  way  Sutherland  speaks  of  "the  moral  instinct,"  and  Wester- 
marck  of  "  the  moral  emotions  "  as  opposed  to  non-moral  emotions  and 
instincts. 

In  a  similar  way  the  French  morale  positive  is  based  on  the  attempt 
to  find  sociological  moral  structures.  A  great  deal  of  the  French  dis- 
cussion centers  about  the  fait  moral.  It  is  a  fundamental  point  of 
positivistic  procedure  to  begin  with  the  observation  of  "  facts "  and  r 
then  discover  their  relations  or  laws.  Accordingly,  if  moral  theory  is 
to  be  scientific  or  positivistic,  it  must  start  with  an  observable  "  moral 
fact."  This  means  not  merely  the  fact  of  morality,  but  a  certain  kind 
of  fact,  which  as  a  fact  has  moral  quality.  Leon  Bourgeois  in  1896  pre- 
sented Comte's  idea  of  solidarite  as  the  fait  moral,2*  and  this  idea  has 
found  very  general  acceptance.25  Durkheim  and  his  school  have  con- 
tinued the  search  for  the  fait  moral.  In  a  similar  sense,  Levy-Bruhl 
speaks  of  "  ethical  nature,"  "  ethical  facts  "  and  "  ethical  reality  "  as  of 
a  certain  kind  of  social  facts  or  structures  which  have  moral  quality. 
But  this  is  not  so  evident  in  Levy-Bruhl  as  in  Durkheim,  for  by  the 
terms  "  ethical  reality,"  etc.,  he  usually  means  simply  the  facts  of 
morality.  But  in  general,  the  idea  of  "  moral  facts  "  is  central  in  posi- 
tivistic ethics,  and  the  object  of  the  French  moral  science  is  to  discover 
the  laws  which  govern  these  "moral  facts." 

These,  then,  are  some  types  (mathematical,  mechanical,  historical, 

24  V.  Bourgeois:  Solidarite,  sees.  Ill  and  V.     Also  the  following  by  £.   Boutroux:  "La 
Morale  comme  science  positive,"  Rev.  de  Metaphysique  et  de  morale,  XVI:  "  Si  la  psychologic, 
si  la  sociologie  peuvent  reposer  sur  une  base  v entablement  scientifique,  pourquoi  n'en  seriat-il 
pas  de  meme  de  la  morale?     II  faudrait  pour  qu'il  en  fut  ainsi,  qu'il  existat  un  fait,  a  la  fois 
objectivement  observable,  et  susceptible  de  fournir  une  norme  a  la  conduite  humaine.     Or  la 
solidarite  parait,  precisement,  reunir  ces  deux  conditions.    Elle  est  donne  comme  fait.  .  .  .  Un 
meme  concept,  celui  de  solidarite,  exprime  ainsi,  par  I'une  de  ses  faces,  un  fait  scientifique, 
par  I'autre  une  obligation  juridique." 

25  Since  I  have  tried  to  bring  out  incidentally  the  sanctioning  function  of  the  search  for 
moral  structures,  I  might  note  here  that  this  appeal  to  "  solidarite  "  grew  directly  out  of  the 
social  needs  of  France  after  the  Franco-Prussian  war.     V.  S.  Deploige:  La  confiit  de  la  morale 
et  de  la  sociologie,   1911,  p.    128.     And  A.   Espinas:  "  Etre  ou  ne  pas  etre,"  Revue  Philoso- 
phique,  Vol.  51,  1901,  pp.  449  ff. 


2O  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

biological,  sociological)  of  structures,  which  have  been  found,  or  at 
least  sought,  in  morals.  No  doubt  others  might  be  mentioned.  A  little 
reflection  makes  it  quite  evident  that  this  attempt  to  find  moral  quality 
in  the  very  frame-work  of  nature  constitutes  an  important  part,  if  not 
the  most  important  part,  of  our  traditional  ethical  theory.  One  reason 
for  this  has  already  been  pointed  out — the  need  of  a  sanction.  Moral 
distinctions  and  judgments  always  arise  in  the  exigencies  of  human 
conduct,  where  uncertainty  is  as  inevitable  as  it  is  intolerable.  Hence 
the  attempt  to  elevate  the  precarious  moral  situation  into  a  natural 
structure  creates  a  very  powerful  sanction,  and  indeed  makes  any  fur- 
ther sanction  superfluous. 

But  there  are  two  other  functions  of  this  search,  which  should  be 
pointed  out  here.  The  first  is,  that  it  served  to  bring  moral  theory 
down  to  earth.  When  morality  became  artificially  divorced  from  ex- 
perience and  human  relationships,  when  the  "  ought "  was  entirely 
independent  of  the  "  is,"  there  was  need  of  regaining  for  moral  theory 
a  natural  footing.  This  motive,  that  of  finding  a  "  natural  basis  "  for 
morality,  comes  out  strongly  in  practically  every  one  of  the  moralists 
discussed  above.  Even  Kant,  though  he  kept  the  "  ought "  and  the 
"  is  "  as  independent  as  ever,  at  least  tried  to  make  this  duality  a  fact  of 
nature  and  experience,  instead  of  a  supernatural  revelation.  In  the 
evolutionistic  and  realistic  ethics  and  in  the  French  sociologie  nothing 
is  more  evident  than  this  desire  to  give  morality  a  natural,  real,  posi- 

Vtive  status.    And  so  in  every  case,  we  might  show  how  the  search  for 
moral  structures  was  in  the  interests  of  a  "  natural "  ethics — natural 
instead  of  supernatural,  actual  instead  of  ideal,  real  instead  of  artificial. 
The  other  function  of  this  search  is  closely  linked  up  with  what  has 
just  been  said;  it  is  the  attempt  to  study  morality  scientifically.     If  a 
science  of  ethics  is  to  be  possible  at  all,  there  must  be  some  objective 
o    reality,  some  definite  set  of  relations  which  can  be  observed  and  f ormu- 
9    lated  as  laws.     This  is  the  motive  in  back  of  the  positivistic  ethics: 
moral  science  implies  moral  "  facts,"  whose  relations  can  be  observed 
and  formulated,  and  it  is  not  until  we  take  the  subject-matter  of  ethics 
as  something  given,  an  "  ethical  reality  "  or  fait  moral  that  a  scientific 
ethics  in  any  real  sense  is  possible.    In  other  words,  it  is  implied  that  if 
ethics  is  to  be  a  natural  science,  it  must  have  moral  structures  for  its 
sub  j  ect-matter . 

Now  it  is  not  my  purpose  here  to  discuss  the  problem  of  whether 
the  structures  here  described  have  a  genuine  natural  existence,  that  is, 
whether  they  represent  scientific  discoveries.  Most  of  them  have  been 
disproven  by  subsequent  scientific  inquiry,  but  some  seem  to  be  genuine. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  21 

The  question  I  wish  to  raise  is  a  simpler  one,  but  at  the  same  time  a 
more  significant  one,  namely,  in  what  sense  can  these,  or  any  struc- 
tures, be  called  moral  ?  or  in  other  words :  how  can  we  distinguish  be- 
tween moral  and  non-moral  structures  ? 

We  might  begin  with  the  paradoxical  statement,  that  the  search  for 
moral  structures  is  an  attempt  to  demoralize  morality.  It  proves  too 
much,  for  structures  as  such  are  essentially  non-moral.  What,  for  ex- 
ample, does  it  mean  to  call  an  instinct  moral,  except  in  so  far  as  it 
enters  into  a  temporary,  or  better,  temporal  moral  situation  ?  Or  what 
is  there  moral  about  any  fact  as  such  ?  Or  in  what  sense  can  a  law  of 
evolution  be  called  moral?  A  structure  as  such  has  no  moral  status.  It 
is  only  as  it  becomes  a  factor  in  a  certain  situation,  which  we  call  a 
moral  situation,  that  any  moral  quality  adheres  to  it.  It  is  therefore 
impossible  to  discover  moral  quality  by  a  purely  structural  analysis. 
Morality  is  always  a  quality  or  function  of  a  situation,  a  course  of  con- 
duct, a  phase  of  activity,  and  though  these  situations  themselves  may 
involve  certain  structural  principles,  these  principles  themselves  can  not 
give  them  their  moral  quality.  We  may  take  as  many  structural  cross- 
sections  of  the  universe  as  we  please  and  not  find  a  trace  of  morality, 
just  as  we  may  dissect  the  nervous  system  as  much  as  we  please  and 
not  find  a  trace  of  mind.  Or  again,  the  case  of  morality  is  analogous  to 
the  case  of  beauty.  Just  as  it  is  true  that  objects  are  beautiful  because 
we  admire  them,  and  not  that  we  admire  them  because  they  are  beauti- 
ful, so  structures  are  moral  because  they  enter  into  the  moral  situation, 
rather  than  that  the  moral  situation  is  moral  because  its  structures  are 
moral.  Or  still  more  accurately,  just  as  the  fact  of  human  admiration 
is  the  beauty  of  objects,  so  the  fact  of  human  valuation  is  the  morality 
of  structures. 

We  are  here  anticipating  a  little  the  nature  of  the  moral  situation, 
but  regardless  of  whether  the  moral  situation  consists  of  valuation  or 
of  some  other  type  of  human  activity,  this  much  only  is  essential  to  the 
present  point — that  morality  is  a  function  or  quality  of  a  situation.  In 
other  words,  the  laws  of  nature  as  such  are  non-moral ;  they  disclose  no 
preference  or  progress.  To  attempt  to  explain  morality  in  terms  of 
natural  laws  is  not  so  much  a  science  of  ethics  as  a  misconception  of  it. 

We  can,  of  course,  speak  of  "the  general  will"  or  the  "social 
cataclysm  "  or  the  law  of  equilibration  or  the  impulse  of  sympathy  as 
moral,  but  only  in  the  sense  in  which  we  speak  .of  moral  philosophy, 
philosophy  of  or  about  morals.  They  may  be  structures  or  ideas  of  or 
about  or  relevant  to  morals,  but  they  are  themselves  no  more  moral 
than  is  the  study  of  ethics.  Consequently,  if  ethics  is  to  be  an  inquiry 


22  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

into  morals,  and  not  merely  into  ideas  about  morality,  it  can  not  be  a 
structural  science,  for  morality  has  no  structural  existence.  We  may 
inquire  into  the  phenomena  of  duty,  sympathy,  valuation,  etc..,  as  nat- 
ural facts,  but  this  would  be  a  branch  of  psychology  or  biology  rather 
than  of  ethics.  We  may  inquire  into  the  history  of  certain  rules,  cus- 
toms, judgments,  etc.,  which  at  various  times  have  had  moral  quality, 
but  this  would  be  a  branch  of  history  or  sociology,  very  important  for 
ethics,  but  not  ethics.  In  short,  we  may  profitably  inquire  into  many 
types  of  structures  which  are  relevant  to  moral  activity,  but  if  we  study 
them  simply  as  structures,  we  can  not  call  this  moral  science,  for  moral- 
ity will  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  subject-matter  of  the  inquiry. 

This  is  why  moral  practise  is  still  so  unenlightened:  ethics  has 
allowed  itself  to  be  sidetracked.  Instead  of  employing  intelligence  and 
scientific  method  on  clarifying  moral  problems,  on  discovering  and 
achieving  human  goods,  moralists  have  painted  ideal  worlds,  which  is  a 
fine  art;  or  they  have  studied  the  phenomena  of  obligation,  will,  love, 
approval,  disapproval,  etc.,  which  is  social  psychology;  or  they  have 
sought  the  origins  of  institutions  and  customs,  which  is  history ;  or  they 
have  worshipped  "  law  and  order,"  which  is  a  type  of  religion.  In  the 
meantime  moral  practise  has  been  left  largely  to  its  own  devices.  It 
has  been  influenced  a  little  by  traditional  ethics,  but  much  less  than  it 
has  by  many  other,  supposedly  non-moral,  sciences.  What  progress  it 
has  made  has  been  largely  blind,  the  result  of  trial  and  error,  of  happy 
chance  and  "  individual  variation."  Structural  ethics,  far  from  being  a 
moral  science,  has  been  either  too  "  pure  "  to  be  moral,  or  too  mytho- 
logical to  be  scientific,  or  both — pure  mythology. 

If,  then,  the  search  for  moral  structures  is  vain,  if  moral  science 
can  not  be  structural,  we  naturally  ask :  what  can  it  be  ?  How  are  the 
structural  sciences  related  to  it  ?  These  questions  will  occupy  us  in  the 
succeeding  chapters. 


CHAPTER  III 
MORALITY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  failure  to  find  moral  quality  in  the  structure  of  nature  easily 
leads  to  the  idea  that  morality  is  something  unnatural,  and  the  denial  of 
moral  facts  as  such  is  often  taken  to  mean  the  denial  of  the  fact  of 
morality.  Various  theories  result.  One  is  that  morality  is  entirely 
independent  of  nature,  that  the  "  is  "  and  the  "  ought "  have  nothing  in 
common,  and  that  morality  has  a  supra-natural  existence.  Another  is 
that  morality  is  an  illusion ;  or  that  it  is  a  form  of  deception  by  which 
one  social  class  controls  another.  Another  is  that  morality  is  purely 
"  subjective,"  a  matter  of  taste  or  of  likes  and  dislikes.  Still  another 
sees  in  morality  a  noble  struggle  against  nature.  Huxley,  for  example, 
thinks  that  just  as  the  struggle  for  existence  is  the  law  of  nature,  so  the 
struggle  with  nature  is  the  law  of  morality. 

None  of  these  inferences  are,  however,  justified ;  certainly  they  are 
not  demanded  by  the  fact  of  nature's  moral  indifference.  What  is  de- 
manded is  simply  that  morality  be  sought  not  as  itself  a  kind  of  moral 
structure,  but  as  a  natural  function  or  quality  of  activity.  Our  problem 
then  becomes  that  of  describing  that  quality  of  activity  which  we  call 
moral. 

Primitive  or  instinctive  activity  being  blind  is  generally  agreed  to  be 
without  moral  quality.  Wherever  impulse  meets  immediate  satisfac- 
tion, there  are  no  goods  and  evils,  no  desires  nor  deliberations ;  there  is 
merely  the  uninterrupted,  unmeaning  flux.  But  where  impulse  is 
thwarted,  and  satisfaction  is  delayed ;  where  the  instinctive  mechanism 
is  unsuccessful,  there  desire  and  deliberation  find  their  place,  selections 
are  made  and  ends  foreseen ;  goods  and  evils  come  to  be  distinguished. 
The  deliberative  mechanism  achieves  a  control  for  which  the  instinctive 
mechanism  is  inadequate.  Deliberation  is  essentially  a  method  of  con- 
trol, a  utilization  of  nature's  possibilities.  And  it  is  this  process  of 
control  in  which  goods  are  discovered  and  to  which  they  are  relevant. 
There  is  scarcely  any  need  of  attempting  to  justify  these  psychological 
principles  here.  My  object  is  rather,  with  these  principles  as  starting 
points,  to  point  out  some  of  their  moral  implications. 

They  imply,  in  the  first  place,  that  human  goods  are  relevant  to 
man's  attempt  to  control  his  environment.  Just  in  so  far  as  objects 


v 


24  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

enter  into  this  process  of  control  do  they  possess  value.  Man  has,  how- 
ever, at  all  times  been  engaged  in  objectifying  this  quality  beyond  this 
process.  He  has  selected  various  objects  which  happen  to  be  highly 
valued  at  the  time,  and  endowed  them  with  goodness  per  se.  The 
previous  chapter  was  a  discussion  of  one  phase  of  this  objectification. 
The  conflicting  character  of  these  selections  is  the  best  evidence  against 
these  "eternal  values."  Objects  become  goods  when  they  are  instru- 

^    mental  in  securing  control,  and  evils  when  they  are  detrimental.    Na- 
ture's serviceableness  measures  her  worth. 

In  order  to  substantiate  this  it  is  necessary  to  analyze  more  care- 
I  fully  the  process  of  control.    Perhaps  what  is  meant  is  better  suggested 

^V  by  the  word,  progress ;  for  progress  is  the  growth  of  human  control 
'  ^over  nature.  Here  we  are  met  at  the  start  with  the  idea  that  nature 
herself  makes  progress,  that  the  laws  of  evolution  are  the  laws  of 
progress,  as  Spencer  put  it.  If  progress  is  a  characteristic  of  nature,  it 
can  not,  of  course,  be  defined  as  the  process  of  man's  increasing  con- 
trol. This  idea  has  already  been  criticized  above.  We  need  merely 
repeat  here  that  the  processes  of  nature  or  the  laws  of  evolution 
assume  the  character  of  progress  only  as  they  are  judged  by  man  with 
reference  to  his  own  purposes  and  ideals.  Nature  as  such  is  entirely 
indifferent ;  but  when  man,  with  conscious  desires  and  purposes,  judges 
the  processes  of  nature  he  may  find  them  favorable.  Progress  is  there- 
f  fore  something  which  man  makes;1  it  is  a  human  art,  one  might  say, 
the  human  art. 

We  can  distinguish  in  general  three  attitudes  which  men  take 
towards  progress  and  human  control,  and  they  represent  in  a  rough 
way  the  growth  of  man's  control  over  nature.  The  first  is  the  attitude 
of  optimistic  resignation.  Man  is  impotent  in  the  face  of  nature,  but 
nature  is  not  indifferent  towards  man.  There  is  a  beneficent  provi- 
dence working  in  nature,  and  wisdom  consists  in  giving  it  free  sway. 
"  God's  in  his  heaven ;  all's  right  with  the  world."  True,  primitive  man 
believes  he  can  exercise  some  influence  over  the  forces  of  nature  by 
appeasing  them  when  angry  or  praising  them  when  gracious ;  but  even 
in  so  doing  he  willingly  acknowledges  their  supremacy  and  bows  to 
their  decrees.  Obedience  and  humility  are  the  prime  virtues  for  this 
conception;  for  the  sooner  man  surrenders  to  providence  the  speedier 
will  be  his  salvation. 

This  religious  attitude  received  its  greatest  rationalization  in  the 
laissez  faire  philosophy  of  evolution.  We  quote  Spencerj  "  To  think 
we  can  better  ourselves  by  deserting  the  road  marked  out  for  us  is  an 

1  V.  Woodbridge:  The  Purpose  of  History,  pp.  74-80. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  25 

impious  assumption  of  more  than  divine  omniscience.  .  .  .  The  high- 
est wisdom  is  in  perfect  and  fearless  submission."2  This  I  would  call 
the  attitude  of  religious  optimism. 

A  second  attitude  is  that  of  contempt  and  escape  to  ideal  satisfac- 
tions, starting  with  pessimism  and  ending  in  transcendentalism.  Na- 
ture is  admitted  to  be  in  a  bad  way.  There  is  no  sure  way  of  getting 
rid  of  its  evils.  It  can  not  cure  itself,  and  who  is  man,  to  undertake 
such  a  task  ?  It  is  best  to  bear  the  evils  of  this  life,  which  are  after  all 
but  short  and  fleeting,  and  live  in  the  hope  of  an  ideal  world.  "  I'm 
but  a  pilgrim  here ;  heav'n  is  my  home."  The  philosophical  rationaliza- 
tion of  this  attitude  is  found  in  transcendentalism.  A  few  quotations 
from  Kant  might  serve  to  illustrate.  .Kant  has  a  good  deal  more  of  the 
human  vein  in  him  than  we  are  usually  led  to  believe.  He  admits,  for 
example,  that  "  the  greatest  problem  for  the  race,  and  one  which  nature 
forces  him  to  solve,  is  the  attainment  of  a  civil  society  whose  rights 
shall  extend  to  all  mankind."  "  But,"  he  continues,  "  this  task  is  the 
most  difficult  of  all ;  and  moreover,  its  complete  solution  is  impossible. 
Out  of  a  log  so  crooked  as  man,  nothing  straight  can  ever  be  made."3 
V However,  the  intelligent  progress  of  the  human  species  is  possible,  and, 
judging  from  past  experience,  even  probable,  but  it  can  not  be  pre- 
dicted a  priori*  And  so  Kant  turns  his  attention  to  the  realm  which 
can  be  predicted  a  priori,  and  the  transcendental  ethics  is  the  result. 
Here  in  the  transcendental  realm  of  freedom  Kant  is  untroubled  by 
physical  obstacles  and  by  the  natural  "  brutishness  "  of  man,  for  dis- 
daining these,  he  can  develop  a  priori  a  morality  of  the  pure  practical 
reason,  which,  if  men  were  free  and  purely  rational  beings,  would  have 
to  be  their  morality.  Thus  he  escapes  the  difficulties  of  the  "greatest 
problem  of  the  human  race  "  not  by  overcoming  them,  but  by  circum- 
venting and  transcending  them. 

^The  third  attitude  is  that  of  assuming  responsibility  for  progress 
and  offsetting  to  work  rationally  to  control  nature.  This  is  the  spirit 
and  function  of  modern  science.  Its  classic  expression  is  found  in  Con- 
dorcet's  great  essay.  However,  to  show  the  human  side  and  scientific 
spirit  of  Kant,  which  leaks  out  whenever  he  descends  from  his  chair  of 
philosophy,  we  quote  the  following  :5  "  Man  must  and  can  be  the 
creator  of  his  own  fortune ;  but  whether  he  will  be,  can  not  be  predicted 
a  priori  from  those  native  endowments,  with  which  we  know  him  to  be 

2  Spencer:  Social  Statics,  p.  65. 

3  Kant:  Idee  zu  einer  allgemeinen  Geschichte  in  weltbuergerlicher  Absicht,   Werke,  Vol. 
8,  p.  22. 

*  Anthropologie,  II,  E,  III,  C. 
5  Ibid. 


26  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

endowed,  but  only  from  experience  and  history,  which  furnish  us  with 
sufficient  evidence  to  justify  our  hope  in  his  continued  progress  towards 
the  better.  So  that  we  need  not  despair,  but  can  hasten  the  approach 
to  this  goal  (each  according  to  his  ability),  by  whatever  prudence  and 
moral  foresight  we  possess."  Here  man  assumes  his  responsibility. 
He  faces  the  facts  of  nature  as  they  are;  he  sees  the  possible  goods 
which  nature  offers ;  he  realizes  his  limitations ;  but  he  sets  about  intelli- 
gently to  control  the  situation. 

y  These  are  three  fundamental  human  attitudes.  They  mark  in  out- 
line the  evolution  of  human  control;  not  that  one  has  supplanted  the 
other,  for  they  are  all  extant,  but  they  represent  the  historical  conditions 

^  under  which  man  has  gradually  increased  his  control.  The  attitude  of 
resignation  represents  man  in  his  actual  primitive  helplessness  in  the 
face  of  nature.  His  tools  were  of  very  limited  power  and  his  intellec- 
tual resources  still  more  so.  The  goods  upon  which  he  stumbled  in 
hit  or  miss  fashion  seemed  naturally  enough  the  gifts  of  the  gods, 
rather  than  his  own  discoveries.  To  obey  the  gods  and  to  make  them 
well-disposed  was  hence  of  prime  importance. 

Then  as  man's  powers  and  control  increased  he  took  courage  and 

Y  assumed  a  more  aggressive  attitude.  But  his  imagination  easily  outran 
his  physical  progress.  It  is  one  thing  to  set  a  goal,  and  another  to 
reach  it.  And  so,  when  physical  obstacles  are  overpowering,  it  is  nat- 
ural to  seek  comfort  in  an  imaginative  ideal.  Man,  failing  in  his  pur- 
pose actually,  finds  satisfaction  in  achieving  it  ideally.  Its  very  distance 
then  lends  enchantment ;  and  enchanted  by  it  man  forgets  the  arduous- 
ness  of  his  task.  The  ideal  becomes  the  real,  and  the  strife  and  tur- 
moil of  the  world  become  petty  and  insignificant.  Idealism  thus  repre- 
sents an  intermediate  stage  in  the  history  of  man's  control,  a  mirage, 
a  dream  that  must  end  with  the  awakening. 

j        This  awakening  has  been  made  possible  by  the  modern  scientific 

'•  discoveries,  which  have  increased  man's  power  and  control  a  thousand- 
fold. The  power  of  science  no  longer  needs  defense  or  illustration. 
It  is  the  actual  achievements  of  science  which  have  made  us  realize  that 
at  last  we  have  a  tool  of  progress ;  the  fact  that  we  are  daily  extending 
our  control  and  that  we  actually  know  something  of  how  to  go  about 
it,  has  made  us  willing  to  acknowledge  our  responsibility  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  task. 

\  On  the  other  hand,  the  other  two  conceptions  of  progress  have  not 
been  without  their  value.  They  tend  to  counterbalance  each  other. 
The  first  warns  us  of  our  present  limitations,  the  second  directs  our 
attention  to  future  goods.  The  first  reminds  us  that  progress  can  only 


V 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  27 

be  achieved  within  the  limits  of  natural  law;  the  second  bids  us  look 
beyond  our  narrow  present  into  future  possibilities.  Thus,  when  these 
two  conceptions  cease  to  be  dogmas  and  prejudices,  they  put  the  prob- 
lems which  are  fundamental  to  a  scientific  progress,  namely :  £ij  What 
are  the  limits  within  which  we  must  proceed?  What  are  the  impossi- 
bilities? (2)  In  what  directions  can  we  proceed  effectively?  What  are 
the  possibilities?  These  questions  will  engage  us  in  the  following 
chapters ;  but  now  we  must  return  to  the  relation  between  progress 
and  morality. 

We  said  above  that  deliberation  is  essentially  a  process  of  control, 
being  simply  the  attempt  to  find  by  reflection  an  effective  way  out  of  a 
practical  difficulty.  And,  taking  this  on  a  larger  scale,  we  found  that 
science  performs  this  same  function  with  reference  to  human  progress, 
i.  e.,  science  is  the  method  of  deliberate  human  control  over  nature, 
which  we  call  progress.  We  have  also  seen  that  goods  are  relevant  to 
this  process  of  deliberate  control;  or  in  other  words,  that  objects  are 
good  in  so  far  as  they  function  successfully  in  this  process.  We  may 
conclude,  therefore,  that  the  problem  of  progress  is  the  problem  of 
discovering  goods  or  values.  Now  in  so  far  as  the  search  for  goods  is 
the  moral  problem,  in  so  far  we  may  call  all  progress  and  all  delibera- 
tion moral,  and  morality  may  be  defined  as  activity  viewed  from  the 
standpoint  of  control  or  progress.  And  there  is  really  no  metaphysical 
reason  against  such  a  definition.  There  is  no  reason  why  one  good 
should  be  termed  moral  and  another  non-moral.  Any  distinction  which 
we  may  make  within  goods  must  be  a  relative  distinction,  and  more  or 
less  arbitrary.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  do  distinguish,  and  it  might 
be  using  undue  violence  to  stretch  the  word  to  cover  all  deliberation  or 
all  progress.  When  we  deliberate  what  to  order  for  dinner,  for  ex- 
ample, we  usually  attach  no  moral  quality  to  our  deliberation.  And  in 
general,  economic  valuations  are  distinguished  from  moral,  although 
there  is  abundant  psychological  evidence  to  show  that  valuation  or 
deliberation  as  such  is  of  the  same  sort  in  both  cases.  And  similarly  in 
many  other  cases,  we  distinguish  between  moral  and  non-moral  goods 
and  valuations,  not  because  there  is  any  fundamental  structural  differ- 
ence in  the  situation,  but  for  more  or  less  accidental  reasons. 

The  most  general,  and  historically  the  most  significant  of  these  rea- 
sons is  that  morality  has  to  do  fundamentally  with  duty,  or  what  is 
right  and  wrong,  or  with  social  obligation.  The  very  word,  morality 
(mores),  enforces  this  idea.6  It  is  with  the  right  or  socially  approved 

6  So,  for  example,  Levy-Bruhl's  "  science  des  mceurs  "  is  easily  translated  into  "  moral 
science." 


28  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

that  morality  has  to  do  primarily.  And  historically  it  has,  of  course, 
been  true  that  the  moral  had  to  do  primarily  with  what  it  was  right  or 
a  man's  duty  to  do.  The  problem  of  the  good  has  generally  been  sub- 
ordinated to  the  problem  of  the  right.  In  fact,  until  comparatively 
recently  the  two  were  scarcely  separated.  Duty  and  good  were  sup- 
posed to  coincide,  or  if  they  conflicted,  good  must  give  way  to  duty. 
But  since  the  growth  of  reflective  morality,  the  two  problems  have  be- 
come increasingly  distinct.  And  the  present  need  is  that  the  problem  of 
the  right  be  subordinated  to  the  problem  of  the  good. 

The  reason  for  this  will  perhaps  best  appear  from  a  brief  considera- 
tion of  the  ethics  of  duty,  social  obligation,  or  right.  In  primitive 
society  duty  is  a  simple  and  homogeneous  matter.  Everybody  knows 
what  his  duty  is  and  that  he  must  do  it.  But  as  society  becomes  more 
tolerant  the  authority  of  duty  weakens,  and  individual  variation  and 
valuation  become  themselves  socially  approved  (within  limits).  Now 
as  the  sanction  of  duty  weakens,  it  is  but  a  case  of  following  the  line  of 
least  resistance,  that  ethical  theory  seeks  to  bolster  up  the  authority  of 
duty,  and  thus  to  retain  the  simplicity  and  practical  certainty  of  unre- 
flective  morality.  And  even  when  duty  retains  merely  the  formal  char- 
acter of  JCanfs^  categorical  imperative,  the  effort  to  make  morality 
simple,  even  for  the  commonest  man,  remains  a  fundamental  motive,  as 
comes  out  clearly  from  the  following  passage  :7 

"The  commonest  intelligence  can  easily  and  without  hesitation  see 
what,  on  the  principle  of  the  autonomy  of  the  will,  requires  to  be  done;  but 
on  the  principle  of  the  heteronomy  of  the  will,  it  is  hard  and  requires 
knowledge  of  the  world  to  see  what  is  to  be  done.  That  is  to  say,  what  duty 
is,  is  plain  of  itself  to  everyone;  but  what  is  to  bring  true  durable  advan- 
•  tage,  such  as  will  extend  to  the  whole  of  one's  existence,  is  always  veiled 
'  in  impenetrable  obscurity;  and  much  prudence  is  required  to  adapt  the 
practical  rule  founded  on  it  to  the  ends  of  life,  even  tolerably,  by  making 
proper  exceptions.  But  the  moral  law  commands  the  most  punctual  obedi- 
ence from  everyone;  it  must,  therefore,  not  be  so  difficult  to  judge  what  it 
requires  to  be  done,  that  the  commonest  unpractised  understanding,  even 
without  worldly  prudence,  should  fail  to  apply  it  rightly." 

Kant  is  here  face  to  face  with  the  problem  of  making  a  man  moral 
'without  making  him  intelligent.  And  this  is  indeed  a  problem ;  to  make 
a  fool  moral  is  not  so  easy.  On  the  other  hand,  what  is  the  use  of  a 
morality  to  which  only  wise  men  can  attain?  Surrounded,  as  Kant 
was,  by  poor,  illiterate,  unintelligent  folk,  with  no  hope  of  ever  be- 
coming otherwise,  it  would  seem  rather  vain  and  ironical  to  say :  you 
can  never  be  moral. 

T  Kant:  Theory  of  Ethics  (Abbott),  p.  126. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  29 

But  disregarding  for  the  moment  the  relation  between  intelligence 
and  morals,  and  confining  ourselves  merely  to  the  ethics  of  duty,  Kant's 
statement  that  it  is  a  simple  matter  to  know  what  to  do  on  the  principle 
of  duty,  probably  accurately  represents  the  actual  conditions  of  his  time. 
Men's  duties  were  then  still  fairly  homogeneous  and  ready  made  by  the 
feudal  system,  and  to  do  one's  duty  had  a  perfectly  definite  and  con- 
crete meaning.  But  to-day  the  opposite  is  the  case.  The  social  and 
industrial  revolutions  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  overthrow  of  the 
feudal  regime,  the  discoveries  of  science,  left  the  old  duties  more  or 
less  meaningless  and  irrelevant.  The  concept  of  duty  then  became 
formal  indeed,  and  the  content  was  filled  in  ad  libitum,  as  German 
history  itself  shows.8  To-day  nothing  is  more  evident  than  the  conflict 
of  duties.  It  is  no  longer  true  that  the  "  commonest,  unpractised  under- 
standing, even  without  worldly  prudence  "  can  "  apply  the  moral  law 
rightly."  Modern  life  has  become  so  complex,  social  relations  so  in- 
volved, that  duties  not  only  are  greatly  multiplied,  but  they  actually  and 
inevitably  conflict.  So  that  to-day  our  significant  moral  problems  have 
shifted  completely  from  the  pedagogical  problems  of  making  men  duti- 
ful, to  the  scientific  problem  of  finding  a  way  out  of  the  conflict  of 
duties. 

We  might  raise  the  theoretical  question  whether  absolutely  simple 
and  uncontested  duty  can  be  intelligently  called  moral,  or  even  whether 
uncontested  duty  is  possible.  Evidence  seems  to  show  that  duty  and 
moral  distinctions  in  general  are  not  only  the  products  of  conflicting 
social  relations,  but  that  they  lose  their  moral  quality  as  soon  as  they 
cease  to  be  contested,  and  then  become  merely  habits  or  customs,  uni- 
form ways  of  acting.  Our  customs,  for  example,  assume  moral  quality 
only  in  relation  to  children  and  "  abnormals  "  in  whom  these  customs 
are  not  established. 

But  aside  from  this  point,  it  needs  no  elaborate  proof  to  show  the 
radical  shift  in  our  moral  problems,  which  has  resulted  from  the  revo- 
lutions of  the  nineteenth  century.  Our  problems  have  shifted  from  the 
narrowly  pedagogical,  which  start  from  a  fixed  code,  to  the  scientific,  j — •» 
which  seek  to  discover  actual  human  goods.  For  once  given  a  conflict 
of  duties  as  we  have  it  to-day,  it  is  idle  to  try  to  solve  our  moral  prob- 
lems by  an  appeal  to  duty  or  right,  since  it  is  precisely  within  the  facts 
of  duty  and  right  that  these  problems  originate.  The  problem  of  duty 
has  therefore  lost  most  of  its  moral  significance,  except  in  a  negative 
way,  and  our  moral  life  to-day  centers  about  other  problems,  namely, 
the  problems  of  discovering  the  actual  goods  of  man. 

8  V.  Dewey:  German  Philosophy  and  Politics. 


3O  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

To  sum  up  the  argument :  As  long  as  morality  is  custom  morality, 
the  problem  of  right  or  duty  is  the  primary  problem ;  but  when  moral- 
ity becomes  reflective,  its  problem  becomes  that  of  the  good ;  for  only 
by  a  scientific  knowledge  of  goods  can  social  approvals,  duties  and 
rights,  become  rational.  The  phenomena  of  social  approval,  duty, 
rights,  obligations,  etc.,  are  psychological  structures,  and  represent  an 
instinctive,  unreflective,  primitive  morality.  They  are  the  psychological 
instruments  by  which  the  group  customs,  group  approvals  assert  them- 
selves over  individual  variations.  They  make  possible  "  moral  educa- 
tion," that  is,  the  process  by  which  immature,  or  otherwise  variant 
members  of  society  acquire  the  habits  of  the  group.  This  is  what  is 
meant  by  calling  this  the  pedagogical  side  of  morals.  A  science  of  duty 
is  therefore  nothing  more  than  a  branch  of  social  psychology,  and  is 
relevant  to  moral  science  only  in  so  far  as  these  psychological  struc- 
tures enter  into  moral  activity.  From  these  considerations,  then,  it 
follows  that  the  factors  of  social  obligation,  duty  and  right  afford  us  no 
method  of  distinguishing  goods  into  moral  and  non-moral,  for  they  not 
only  are  distinct  and  separate  from  goods,  but  they  are  of  themselves 
and  intrinsically  not  moral  but  simply  psychological  phenomena.  On 
the  other  hand,  they  are  so  intimately  related  to  moral  conduct,  that  to 
say  that  moral  science  has  nothing  to  do  with  them,  would  be  absurd. 
What  is  necessary  is  that  we  distinguish  sharply  between  these  two 
problems,  that  of  the  good  and  bad,  and  that  of  the  right  and  wrong. 
The  problem  of  the  right  and  wrong  is  essentially  a  problem  of  social 
psychology,  as  we  have  seen.  And  if  we  mean  by  morality  simply  the 
fact  of  social  obligation,  moral  science  is  either  simply  a  science  des 
mccurs,  or  it  is  a  critique  or  evaluation  of  the  mores  and  duties.  In 
the  latter  case  it  must  pass  beyond  the  sphere  of  "  right  and  wrong  " 
and  take  up  the  standpoint  of  the  good  and  bad.  So  that,  if  we  re- 
main within  the  realm  of  duty,  ethics  must  be  a  theoretical  science, 
which  might  be  called  theoretical  ethics,  but  which  is  really  social  psy- 
chology in  its  moral  bearings.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  moral  science  is 
to  be  an  evaluating  science,  it  must  go  beyond  the  realm  of  duty  and  the 
social  sanction,  and  take  up  the  problem  of  human  goods  and  control 
and  progress.  In  other  words,  the  problem  of  duty  on  its  moral  side 
throws  us  back  upon  the  problem  of  good  as  the  ultimate  moral  prob- 
lem for  moral  science. 

But  in  another  way  the  traditional  association  of  morality  with  the 
social  sanction  is  of  some  help  in  making  the  practical  distinction  be- 
tween goods  in  general  and  moral  goods,  for  it  attaches  particular 
moral  quality  to  those  goods  which  have  general  social  bearings.  We 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  3! 

might  formulate  it  thus :  the  greater  the  social  scope  of  a  good  becomes, 
the  more  moral  it  is.  A  large  number  of  deliberations  or  valuations  are 
of  little  social  consequence.  Whether  I  shall  wear  a  green  or  blue  tie, 
whether  I  had  better  take  the  subway  or  the  surface  car,  whether  Berg- 
son  or  Russell  would  make  a  better  topic  for  a  club  discussion,  are  all 
objects  of  deliberation,  and  if  wise  decisions  are  reached,  they  indicate 
some  progress.  But  it  would  be  stretching  the  matter  too  far  to  call 
them  moral  deliberations,  for  their  social  significance  is  too  limited. 
But  as  men  engage  more  and  more  in  common  enterprises,  have  com- 
mon purposes  and  ends,  as  deliberations  take  on  social  scope  and  im- 
portance, as  valuation  becomes  socialized,  they  become  increasingly 
moral.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  activity  without  any  social  conse- 
quences, for  our  activity  is  inherently  social.  Man  is  a  "  social  animal," 
and  his  actions,  deliberations  and  choices  take  place  in  a  social  medium. 
But  their  social  significances  vary  widely.  In  general,  the  more  homo- 
geneous a  society  is,  and  the  more  solidarity  it  has,  the  more  moralized 
does  activity  become.  In  primitive  society,  where  social  uniformity  is 
completest,  practically  everything  a  man  does  has  moral  significance, 
not  merely  because  any  individual  variation  is  frowned  upon,  but  be- 
cause all  activity  is  so  completely  socialized.  The  clan  or  tribe  acts  as 
a  unit,  and  is  collectively  responsible  for  its  actions.  Hence  in  primi- 
tive society  all  activity  has  moral  quality.  And  similarly  in  modern 
society  engaged  in  war,  when  social  unity  and  solidarity  are  as  essential 
as  they  are  in  primitive  society,  actions  acquire  "  moral "  quality  which 
in  times  of  peace  would  be  morally  "neutral.'*  The  "two  lumps  of 
sugar,"  for  instance,  have  moral  status  only  in  war  time,  because  only 
then  are  they  of  vital  social  significance.  The  same  is  true  in  modern 
society  under  normal  conditions  in  the  measure  in  which  values  and 
valuations  become  social  in  character  and  in  consequences,  in  that  meas- 
ure have  they  moral  quality.  So  the  problems  of  poverty,  public  health, 
social  legislation,  war,  etc.,  are  eminently  moral  problems,  for  they  are 
of  the  widest  social  significance.  They  are  problems  which  arise  within 
a  high  degree  of  integration  of  purpose  and  organization  of  activity.  In 
general,  then,  we  may  say  that  the  moral  quality  of  a  good  varies  with 
the  scope  of  the  valuation  in  which  it  arises.  When  a  valuation  takes 
place  within  very  narrow  limits  it  has  little  moral  quality,  and  as  the 
scope  of  the  value  situation  is  increased,  values  become  increasingly 
moral.  Thus  we  have  a  means  of  making  the  relative,  practical  distinc- 
tion between  good  in  general  and  moral  good,  between  progress  in  gen- 
eral and  moral  progress. 

We  can  now  return  to  our  original  thesis,  that  morality  is  activity 


32  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  control  or  progress,  and  maintain  that 
science,  in  so  far  as  it  increases  our  control,  i.  e.,  in  its  practical  or 
applied  aspect,  is  moral  science.  And  there  is  some  justification  for  the 
use  of  "moral  science"  in  this  sense.  But,  as  was  pointed  out,  we 
can  distinguish  between  practical  or  evaluative  science  in  general  and 
moral  science  by  confining  moral  science  to  social  valuations.  Moral 

"  science  would  then  be  the  science  of  social  progress. 

j-        Now  it  may  seem  a  waste  of  effort  to  make  this  attempt  to  identify 

'  moral  science  with  a  scientific  control  of  social  progress.  It  should 
seem  sufficient  to  show  the  need  and  possibilities  of  a  scientific  social 
progress,  without  trying  to  link  it  up  with  moral  or  any  other  science. 
And  this  would  be  true,  were  it  not  for  two  facts :  ( i )  that  all  sciences, 
including  scientific  ethics,  take  their  turn  at  denying  responsibility  for 
meeting  this  need,  and  so  the  inference  is  made,  that  it  is  beyond  the 
pale  of  science  and  not  amenable  to  scientific  method.  The  problem  of 
social  progress  is  said  to  be  a  problem  for  art,  for  statesmanship,  for 
political  prudence,  etc.,  and  these  arts  are  not  supposed  to  be  in  any 
sense  scientific  arts.  (2)^ Ethics  has  usually  claimed  to  be  a  "norma- 
tive "  science,  a  "  guide  to  action,"  the  supreme  practical  science,  etc., 
but  it  has  never  been  willing  or  patient  enough  to  wrestle  with  this 
problem  scientifically.  And  now  the  ethics  that  is  genuinely  scientific 
is  historical  and  psychological  and  denies,  along  with  the  other  theoret- 
ical sciences,  any  "  normative  "  obligation.  So  the  net  result  is  that  the 
interest  of  scientists  is  diverted  from  our  practical  moral  and  social 
problems,  and  our  social  practise  is  consequently  left  unenlightened. 

"J"  For  these  reasons,  and  also  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  problem  of 
social  progress  is  being  recognized  more  and  more  as  a,  if  not  the,  moral 
problem,  it  is  suggested  here,  that  in  the  scientific  inquiry  into  this 
problem  lies  the  opportunity  for  moral  science  to  come  into  its  own. 


CHAPTER  IV 
SOCIAL  SCIENCE  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

We  come  now  to  a  more  detailed  consideration  of  the  method  in 
ich  a  scientific  social  progress  proceeds.  In  this  chapter  we  have  to 
consider  the  relation  between  social  progress  and  social  science ;  or  in 
other  words,  we  have  to  ask :  what  is  the  function  of  social  science  in 
the  process  of  social  control?  Perhaps  the  discussion  of  this  problem 
will  gain  by  making  the  distinction  between  physical  control  and  phys- 
ical science  on  the  one  hand,  and  social  control  and  social  science  on 
the  other.  This  is,  however,  a  treacherous  distinction,  and  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  social  science  is  just  as  much  a  natural  science  as 
any  other,  and  that  social  control  can  not  be  separated  from  physical 
control  absolutely.  But  since  the  progress  of  the  "  physical  sciences  " 
has  so  far  outrun  our  social  progress,  and  since  we  can  exercise  a  con- 
trol over  certain  mechanical  forces  and  natural  processes  to  a  far 
greater  extent  than  we  can  over  others,  namely,  the  mechanisms  and 
forces  which  operate  in  society,  we  can  profitably  make  this  practical 
distinction  between  these  two  phases  or  branches  of  the  process  of 
human  control.  And  since  we  recognize  that  they  constitute  but  phases 
of  this  general  process,  we  can  reasonably  expect  that  the  course  which 
this  more  prosperous  branch  has  pursued  may  throw  some  light  on  the 
course  of  the  more  backward  social  branch.  Furthermore,  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  we  are  now  dealing  with  social  science  as  a  struc- 
tural science.  There  is  no  essential  difference  between  social  science 
and  physical  science,  except  a  difference  of  field  of  interest;  the  object 
of  both  is  to  discover  natural  structures,  or  laws.  And  consequently 
the  function  of  each  in  the  process  of  control  is  the  same.  So,  bearing 
in  mind  that  we  are  making  a  relative  distinction  among  structural  sci- 
ences, we  may  proceed  to  trace  in  outline  the  relations  between  struc- 
tural science  and  human  control,  both  physical  and  social,  indicating 
the  various  types  of  progress  which  are  to  be  found. 

First  we  might  mention  the  negation  of  human  progress,  the  idea 
that  man  is  controlled  by  nature  and  not  a  controller  of  nature,  a  child 
of  fate  and  not  an  artificer.  It  is  a  fatalism  either  pessimistic  or 
optimistic,  depending  upon  whether  fate  is  conceived  of  as  a  beneficent 
providence  or  as  a  blind  necessity.  In  the  matter  of  social  progress 


34  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

fatalism  represents  an  idea  or  theory  rather  than  a  practical  attitude. 
As  a  practical  attitude  or  approach  to  a  problem  it  is  evidently  worth- 
less.1 As  an  idea  it  represents  "  laissez  faire,"  and  is  a  theory  by 
which  certain  social  activities  and  practical  programs  have  been  justi- 
fied. It  has  been  useful  in  freeing  social  practise  from  artificial  hamp- 
ering bonds  and  tyranny.  In  a  time  when  personal  liberty  was  op- 
pressed and  the  "  fundamental  human  rights  "  violated,  the  theory  that 
social  regulation  merely  retards  progress  by  interfering  with  nature 
served  to  justify  the  practical  attitude  of  reform  and  progress.  Even 
the  ideas  of  a  golden  age  or  "  the  good  old  times  "  or  the  "  return  to 
nature  "  represent  on  their  practical  side  not  an  aloofness  or  quietism, 
but  a  desire  to  change  existing  social  conditions  so  as  to  make  them 
more  conformable  to  an  ideal,  an  ideal  located  in  the  past.  The  very 
denial  of  the  efficacy  of  human  control,  thus  turns  out  to  be  on  its 
practical  side  a  device  intended  for  increasing  human  control. 

But  now  to  turn  to  the  more  positive  methods  of  human  control. 
The  most  primitive  and  primary  is  that  of  trial  and  error.  In  the 
matter  of  physical  control  it  is  represented  by  the  methods  of  the 
primitive  medicine  man.  Having  no  insight  into  the  nature  of  his  prob- 
lem and  no  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  the  world,  he  tries  anything 
and  everything  imaginable.  This  is  perhaps  not  strictly  true,  for  even 
the  medicine  man  is  guided  by  certain  hypotheses  and  prejudices,  which 
lead  him  to  favor  certain  activities  rather  than  others,  to  which  he 
clings  despite  their  actual  efficacy  or  inefficacy.  But  on  the  whole  this 
trial  and  error  is  largely  uncontrolled,  and  has  little  intellectual  signifi- 
cance. Experience,  successes  and  rebuffs,  gain  little  meaning.  It  is 
not  experimentation,  but  fumbling.  The  medicine  man  tries  to  bring 
rain  or  dispel  disease  by  the  beating  of  sticks  and  the  wearing  of 
amulets,  by  sacrifices  and  incantations,  by  music  and  magic.  The  medi- 
cine man  is  still  with  us;  but  the  miracles  of  his  magic  are  now  far 
overshadowed  by  the  wonders  of  science. 

*  Nevertheless  it  is  surprising  to  what  an  extent  we  still  follow  the 
methods  of  the  medicine  man  in  matters  of  social  control.  Our  social 
rules  and  regulations,  our  customs  and  standards  are  largely  the  prod- 
uct of  chance  and  fumbling.  Many  of  them  are  merely  hit  or  miss 
solutions  for  social  emergencies.  And  what  is  more,  many  of  them  are 
merely  survivals  whose  original  value  has  been  lost.2  Our  social  con- 

1  That  is  to  say,  that  when  a  man  is  face  to  face  with  a  problem,  he  rarely  says:  "  I  have 
to  do  what  I  shall  do;  hence,  why  worry  about  what  I  shall  do?  "     For,  if  he  were  consistent, 
he  would  have  to  continue  and  say:  "  If  I  worry  about  what  to  do,  it  is  because  I  have  to 
worry;  hence,  why  worry  about  whether  to  worry  or  not?  "  etc.     In  fact,  fatalism  as  a  prac- 
tical attitude  is  self-contradictory;  it  is  simply  the  negation  of  practise. 

2  V .   Gustav  Ratzenhofer:  Positiv  Ethik,  p.  24. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  35 

trol  is  still  extremely  "empirical,"  without  reflective  control.  Our 
social  policies  are  not  controlled  experiments,  but  usually  represent 
the  easiest  way  of  getting  out  of  a  particular  difficulty ;  and  hanging  on 
as  they  do  after  their  short-lived  usefulness  is  past,  they  cause  more 
difficulties  than  they  solved.  So  also  our  legislation,  and  to  a  still 
greater  extent  our  moral  judgments  and  standards  are  the  products  of 
unintelligent  procedure.  The  deliberations  of  our  law  makers  and  our 
courts  are  still  far  from  scientific.  The  decisions  of  our  courts  are 
based  to  a  large  extent  on  precedent ;  and  the  discussions  of  legislators 
usually  center  around  precedents,  party  doctrines,  "  rights,"  or  around 
petty  details,  rather  than  around  an  inquiry  into  the  various  factors 
which  demand  regulation,  the  possibilities  and  means  of  satisfying 
these  demands  and  the  probable  consequences  of  the  action  to  be  taken. 
There  is  little  genuine  experimentation ;  most  of  it  is  hit  or  miss,  trial 
and  error  procedure.  The  control  exercised  by  public  opinion  is  still 
less  enlightened.  It  is  usually  based  on  impulsive  judgments  and  pop- 
ular prejudices.  Consequently  our  social  control  is  still  about  as 
limited  as  the  physical  control  of  the  medicine  man.  Our  efforts  some- 
times prove  effective,  by  the  law  of  chance,  but  more  often  they  are  in- 
effective, because  blind.  Progress  by  such  methods  is  exceedingly 
slow.  Just  as  animal  learning  by  the  trial  and  error  method  is  very 
restricted,  compared  with  the  knowledge  gained  by  scientific  experi- 
mentation, so  trial  and  error  progress  is  very  restricted  compared  with 
the  progress  based  on  science.  The  cause  for  the  ineffectiveness  of 
the  trial  and  error  method  is  quite  evident.  It  is  due  to  its  ignorance 
of  its  limitations,  of  impossibilities.  The  medicine  man  who  beats 
sticks  to  bring  rain  might  turn  his  activity  into  more  fruitful  channels, 
if  he  knew  the  actual  relations  or  lack  of  relations  between  rain  and 
the  beating  of  sticks.  Similarly  the  philanthropist  who  tries  to  stop 
the  war  by  preaching  might  spare  himself  much  trouble,  if  he  knew  the 
relations  between  preaching  and  war  and  human  nature.  As  long  as 
social  problems  are  attacked  in  an  uncontrolled,  hit  or  miss  fashion 
social  progress  will  be  slow,  sporadic  and  accidental. 

A  second  method  is  the  method  of  idealism.    An  ideal  is  conceived  / 
imaginatively,  and  by  it  existences  are  approved  or  condemned.    The 
historical  setting  of  idealism  as  a  method  of  progress  has  already  been 
discussed.    It  represents  an  ideal  satisfaction  in  the  face  of  real  ob- 
stacles ;  an  imaginative  substitute  for  physical  control. 

In  one  sense  an  ideal  is  a  perfectly  natural  and  necessary  factor  in 
rational  progress.  An  ideal,  if  taken  as  an  idea,  an  end-in-view,  a 
working  hypothesis,  or  working  standard,  is  essential  to  all  purposive 


: 


36  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

activity,  and  to  scientific  method  itself.  But  the  moral  ideal  is  usually 
conceived  quite  differently.  It  is  supposed  to  be  an  absolute,  rational 
deduction,  a  final  standard  of  perfection  and  excellence.  And  the 
moral  problem  is  the  problem  of  transforming  this  irrational,  evil 
world  as  it  is,  into  this  perfect  world,  which  it  ought  to  be;  it  is  the 
problem  of  "  bringing  in  the  Kingdom,"  of  producing  a  transformation. 
Such  ideals  are  not  fit  instruments  of  progress ;  and  for  several  reasons. 
Ny  In  the  first  place,  ideals  are  neither  absolute  nor  rational.  The  idea 
that  man  can  frame  a  perfect  social  ideal  based  on  the  principles  of 
pure  reason,  and  necessarily  acceptible  to  every  rational  being,  arises 
chiefly  out  of  a  false  conception  of  human  reason.  Moral  ideals  are 
largely  rationalizations,  that  is,  attempts  to  put  into  rational  and  con- 
sistent form  a  morality  which  has  arisen  non-rationally.  A  glance  at 
the  great  moral  ideals  would  show  this  to  be  the  case.  Plato's  Republic, 
Aristotle's  Ethics  and  Politics,  Augustine's  City  of  God,  Spinoza's 
Ethics,  Bacon's  New  Atlantis,  etc.,  down  to  Bertrand  Russell's  "The 
World  as  It  Could  Be  Made  " — what  are  they,  but  the  masterpieces  of 
artists,  the  fruits  of  fertile  imaginations?  They  are  no  more  final  or 
absolute  than  is  a  painter's  masterpiece.  He  would  be  a  presumptuous 
artist  who  could  claim  to  have  produced  the  final  work  of  art,  the  last 
thing  in  the  way  of  beauty.  And  yet  that  is  what  moral  artists  would 
have  us  believe  they  have  accomplished.  The  mere  fact  that  we  keep 
on  painting  new  ideals  should  furnish  a  sufficient  empirical  refutation 
of  this  claim.  But  an  examination  of  the  nature  of  these  ideals  or  of 
any  possible  ideal  would  be  no  less  conclusive  in  refuting  their  claim 
to  finality.  For  they  all  have  a  social  setting ;  they  begin  with  certain 
undisputed  principles,  axioms,  which  represent  not  rational  forms  or 
laws  of  thought,  but  general  moral  ideas  (usually  called  intuitions), 
which  are  largely  taken  for  granted  at  a  given  time~an"d  whicrTare  not 
thought  worth  while  criticizing.  These  axioms  are  in  no  sense  ra- 
tional; they  are  merely  the  social  limits  within  which  the  particular 
discussion  or  rationalization  takes  place.  And  therefore,  as  these  social 
limits  or  settings  change  in  the  course  of  history,  the  ideals  built  upon 
them  must  change.  So,  even  granted  that  the  superstructure  reared  on 
these  axioms  is  logically  constructed  and  rational  in  so  far,  a  final  ideal 
would  be  impossible,  unless  it  were  founded  on  absolute  social  limits. 
Such  absolute  social  limits  can  be  nothing  short  of  natural  structures, 
and  in  our  present  state  of  ignorance  regarding  the  natural  structures 
underlying  social  practise,  it  is  folly  to  presume  to  know  them.  And 
our  efforts  should  rather  be  spent  in  discovering  these  structures  than 
in  framing  supposedly  absolute  rational  ideals  and  ends. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  37 

In  the  second  place,  ideals  are  not  fit  instruments  of  progress,  be- 
cause they  invariably  outlive  their  original  setting  and  purpose,  and  are 
imposed  extraneously  upon  other  situations  to  which  they  are  not 
germane.  Being  conceived  of  as  absolute  and  final,  they  live  after 
their  practical  justification  has  passed  away.  And  then  they  are  viewed 
as  external  standards  by  which  a  situation  can  be  judged,  and  as  final 
measures  of  value.  Thus  ideals  tend  toward  a  religious,  "  post- 
rational  morality,"  as  Santayana  calls  it,  instead  of  being  instruments 
of  moral  progress. 

Idealism  as  a  method  has  been  generally  discarded  in  physical  sci-  j 
ence.  Alchemy  might  be  regarded  as  an  example  of  the  idealistic 
method  in  physical  science.  By  setting  up  the  fixed  goal  of  the  trans- 
mutation of  the  baser  metals  as  the  goal  of  chemistry,  the  science  soon 
became  sterile.  Similar  illustrations  might  be  found  in  the  history  of 
physics,  medicine,  and  the  other  sciences.  An  idea,  when  it  has  ceased 
to  be  simply  a  working  hypothesis,  and  becomes  a  mold  into  which 
facts  are  forced,  serves  to  dogmatize  science  and  to  hinder  its  progress. 

But  in  social  control  we  still  cling  to  the  ideal  as  a  necessary  factor  ^ 
in  progress.    It  is  often  said  that  without  some  such  ultimate  ideal  we 
Jiave  no  measure  or  criterion  of  progress.     Some  such  idea  as  the 
greatest  happiness  principle,  or  social  adaptation,  or  the  socialistic 
state,  or  democracy  is  taken  as  an  ultimate  standard  in  accordance 
with  which  progress  must  proceed.    But  these  ideas  then  cease  to  be  X 
hypotheses  for  testing,  and  become  principles  for  measuring  the  truth 
of  other  ideas.    And  this  means  social  f ossilization  rather  than  social  ^ 
progress. 

A  third  reason  why  idealism  is  not  a  fit  method  of  progress  is  that  y, 
these  ideal  pictures  are  painted  without  taking  into  account  the  actual 
possibilities  of  the  situation.  Aristotle's  perfect  life  or  Bertrand  Rus- 
sell's ideal  society  may  please  us,  may  stimulate  our  imagination  and 
our  desires,  but  they  have  little  practical  significance  otherwise.  They 
all  begin  with  a  big  IF.  //  men  were  purely  rational  beings,  if  men 
acted  solely  from  rational  self-love,  if  governments  loved  peace  and 
justice,  if  social  classes  were  abolished,  then  this  or  the  other  would 
be  a  description  of  the  perfect  life.  It  is  all  in  the  contrary-to-fact 
form.  It  is  this  indifference  to  the  actual  which  robs  these  ideals  of 
their  significance  for  social  practise.  Social  practise  is  immediately 
concerned  with  a  multitude  of  hard,  unpleasant  facts  and  problems ; 
and  hence,  any  ideal  which  ignores  these  and  takes  refuge  in  other 
worlds,  whence  these  disturbing  factors  are  banished,  can  have  little 
social  directive  force.  The  best  it  can  do  is  to  make  men  forget  their 


38  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

practical  troubles  by  raising  a  new  set  of  speculative  problems.  These 
speculations  then  assume  an  independent  interest.  Men  criticise  them, 
pick  out  flaws,  inconsistencies  and  unideal  elements.  Having  disproved 
to  their  satisfaction  the  ideality  of  existing  ideals,  men  frame  new 
ones,  which  are  in  turn  overthrown  by  others.  And  so  a  whole  new 
field  of  interest,  a  fascinating  fine  art,  centers  about  the  painting  of 
ideals.  In  the  meantime,  social  practise,  which  must  needs  confine 
itself  to  the  real  world,  is  left  behind  groping  its  way  in  the  dark. 

If  physical  scientists  were  to  use  this  method,  what  sort  of  progress 
could  we  expect?  If  scientists,  vexed  over  the  irrationalities  of  nature, 
were  to  construct  ideal  worlds  in  which  matter  behaved  more  to  their 
tastes,  our  control  over  nature  as  it  is  would  be  little  enhanced.  Human 
^  art  has  its  limits ;  ours  is  not  the  task  of  creating  new  worlds  to  live  in, 
it  is  the  task  of  making  the  best  of  the  world  as  we  find  it.  Similarly 
in  social  nature,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  construct  a  human  nature 
which  would  suit  us  better;  we  can  merely  reconstruct  society  on  the 
basis  of  the  human  nature  which  is.  We  can  not  build  a  new  house 
according  to  plans  which  may  please  us ;  we  can  only  remodel  the  house 
in  which  we  live.  Nature  imposes  limits  upon  us,  and  to  disregard 
them  is  not  progress  but  folly. 

This  leads  us  to  the  first  principle  of  a  scientific  social  progress: 
f  Progress  can  only  proceed  within  the  limits  of  natural  law.  So  the 
first  problem  of  social  progress  is  to  discover  its  structural  limits ;  and 
*  this  is  the  function  of  structural  social  science. 

Let  us  return  to  our  analogy  with  physical  science  and  the  growth 
of  physical  control.  There  was  a  time  when  physical  science  was 
essentially  an  attempt  to  make  consistent  and  unify  dialectically  the 
empirical  observations  of  naive  experience.  In  this  it  resembles  a  good 
deal  of  modern  "  social  science."  A  multitude  of  manifold  experiences 
constitutes  the  stuff  of  common  sense;  and  science  is  the  attempt  to 
discover  some  sort  of  order  and  unity  in  the  confusion  of  purely  em- 
pirical experience.  The  ancients  achieved  this  unity  and  order  dialect- 
ically ;  and  hence  their  control  over  nature  was  dialectical.  In  rigorous 
thinking  and  systematic  reflection  the  ancients  are  still  unsurpassed. 
But  modern  science  has  attempted  to  discover  order  in  nature  not 
dialectically  but  experimentally.  It  has  sought  relations  in  nature, 
rather  than  in  discourse ;  or  better,  it  has  sought  natural  relations  and 
laws  other  than  those  of  logic.  The  discovery  of  these  laws  has  been 
accomplished  largely  by  the  method  of  controlled  observation  and  ex- 
perimentation. To  what  a  revolutionary  extent  the  discovery  of  these 
physical  laws  has  enhanced  human  control  is  a  commonplace  of  experi- 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  39 

ence  to-day.     Bacon's  " knowledge  is  power"  is  to-day  empirically 
verified. 

But  how  different  is  the  case  in  social  progress  and  social  science. 
Social  science  is  still  in  its  infancy,  and  smacks  more  of  social  dia- 
lectics than  of  "  social  physics."  Our  lack  of  social  control,  conse- 
quently, is  only  too  horribly  evident. 

Various  suggestions  have  been  made  to  account  for  the  great  gap 
existing  between  our  present  physical,  and  our  social  control  of  nature. 
Comte  suggested  that  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  sociology,  being  the 
"most  complex  and  "highest"  of  the  sciences,  could  only  be  under- 
taken after  the  others  (especially  biology)  had  well  established  them- 
selves. He  pointed  out  how  attempts  at  social  science  had  failed 
(especially  those  of  Montesquieu  and  Condorcet)  because  they  were 
made  without  the  necessary  knowledge  of  physical  and  biological  laws, 
which  science  has  since  discovered.  Levy-Bruhl  has  suggested  that  it 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  social  and  moral  problems  are  too  intimately 
bound  up  with  practical  interests,  desires,  feelings,  beliefs  and  hopes 
to  be  de-subjectified.  Science  demands  objective  subject-matter; 
facts  must  be  regarded  from  the  outside,  impartially,  without  prejudice, 
if  they  are  to  be  studied  scientifically.  "  So  long  as  they  are  mani- 
fested subjectively  in  consciousness  under  the  form  of  duties,  remorse, 
feelings  of  blame  and  praise,  etc.,  they  possess  an  entirely  different 
character.  They  seem  to  relate  exclusively  to  action  and  to  depend 
solely  on  principles  of  practise."3  Hence  the  hesitancy  with  which 
they  are  subjected  to  scientific  inquiry.  Still  other  factors  might  be 
mentioned:  the  rigid  feudal  regime,  which  precluded  any  democratic 
political  ideas  by  frowning  upon  them  as  treason;  and  the  religious 
sanction  which  attached  itself  to  most  social  customs  and  moral  acts, 
and  regarded  any  departure  as  impiety  or  heresy.  All  these  factors, 
and  still  others,  have  entered  in  to  delay  the  development  of  social 
science.  But  without  discussing  further  the  reasons  for  this  delay,  we 
may  start  with  the  fact  that  social  science  is  in  its  infancy ;  and  instead 
of  deprecating  its  impotence,  we  shall  do  better  to  emphasize  its  posi- 
tive beginnings. 

One  of  the  most  fundamental  developments  of  social  science  has 
been  the  employment  of  scientific  method  in  historical  research.  For 
historical  science  is  very  fundamental  to  all  social  science.  Just  as 
mathematics  is  at  the  basis  of  physical  science,  so  history  is  at  the  basis 
of  social  science.  So  long  as  social  science  was  dialectical  it  could  dis- 
pense fairly  well  with  historical  science;  but  a  social  physics,  which 

3  Levy-Bruhl:  Ethics  and  Moral  Science,  p.  6. 


4O  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

seeks  to  discover  natural  laws  must  have  at  its  disposal  a  historical 
technique;  for  these  laws  are  not  mathematical  but  temporal  or  his- 
torical. During  the  nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries  a  historical 
technique  has  been  developing  which  is  not  merely  a  telling  of  tales, 
but  a  genuine  scientific  inquiry.4 

/  A  second  positive  beginning  in  social  science  has  been  made  by 
'psychology.  That  psychology  has  now  developed  a  scientific  technique, 
especially  in  experimental  and  animal  psychology,  can  no  longer  be  in- 
telligibly disputed.  But  the  case  is  not  so  clear  for  what  passes  as 
"  social  psychology."  Even  folk  psychology,  for  example,  though  quite 
"  objective,"  is  still  too  much  under  the  influence  of  nationalism  and  of 
the  speculative  inheritances  from  "  social  philosophy."  It  also  shares 
with  social  psychology  in  general  the  attempt  to  carry  over  the  distinc- 
tions and  concepts  of  individual  psychology  by  analogy  to  social  exist- 
ences and  social  organizations;  that  is,  the  mechanisms  of  the  human 
(or  animal)  organism  are  made  analogous  to  the  social  mechanisms, 
by  which  our  social  life  is  controlled.  Only  in  a  few  cases,  as  in  the 
psychology  of  language,  has  there  been  a  scientific  inquiry  into  genu- 
j  inely  social  mechanisms.  We  are  still  largely  ignorant  of  the  precise 
mechanisms  which  control  such  social  phenomena  as  "  fashions,"  cus- 
toms, tradition,  obligation,  religion,  government,  marriage,  etc. 

One  very  important  phase  of  social  behavior,  however,  has  become 
the  subject-matter  of  a  separate  science,  namely,  economics,  though  it 
is  really  just  as  much  social  psychology  as  other  aspects  of  social  be- 
havior mentioned  above.  But  as  a  separate  science,  it  has  gained  a 
greater  freedom  from  the  antiquated  methods  and  the  "  metaphysical " 
interests  which  hover  around  psychology.  For  the  dominant  motive  in 
the  science  of  economics  seems  to  have  been  the  practical  motive  of 
control,  which  can  hardly  be  said  of  psychology.5  However,  even  in 
economics,  the  original  interest  in  control  is  frequently  lost  in  the 
attempt  to  sanction  existing  social  institutions,  by  pretending  that  they 
are  based  on  "  economic  principles  "  or  psychological  structures.  Then 
too,  economics  still  suffers  from  an  antiquated  hedonistic  psychology, 
which  has  clung  to  it,  and  in  terms  of  which  many  of  its  discoveries  are 
formulated.  But  empirical  investigation  and  scientific  method  are 
rapidly  transplanting  the  earlier  rationalistic  and  hedonistic  theories.6 

The  science  of  sociology  is  in  a  similar  transitional  state.     It  was 

*  V.  Ch.  V.  Langlois  &  Ch.  Seignobos:  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  History,  English 
translation,  Bk.  II,  Ch.  V,  and  Bk.  Ill,  Ch.  V,  especially  pp.  316-319. 

5  It  is  interesting  to   note  that  one  of  the  chief   factors  in   revolutionizing   psychological 
methods  has  been  the  introduction  of  the  motive  of  control  by  educational  and   pathological 
psychology. 

6  V.  Schmoller:  Grundfragen  der  Socialpolitik,  p.  336. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  41 

furnished  at  the  outset  by  its  founders,  Comte  and  Spencer,  with  a 
number  of  brilliant  generalizations  and  speculative  principles ;  and  ever 
since,  it  has  been  so  absorbed  in  bolstering  up  these  theories  and  trying 
to  fit  the  facts  into  them,  that  it  has  not  made  much  progress  in  actual 
scientific  method.  Comte,  however,  was  unlike  Spencer  in  that  he  was 
more  concerned  in  developing  a  scientific  study  of  social  phenomena 
than  in  constructing  a  social  philosophy  or  "  organized  system  of 
thought."  His  emphasis  on  the  need  of  discovering,  by  careful  ob- 
servation and  scientific  methods,  the  laws  of  social  phenomena,  or 
"  social  physics  "  as  he  called  it,  has  begun  to  bear  fruit  in  the  soci- 
ologie  positive  of  France  and  Germany.  And  though  this  sociologie 
is  more  positivistic  than  scientific,  it  has  succeeded  in  making  genuine 
scientific  discoveries.  In  this  country  and  England,  where  the  influ- 
ence of  Spencer  has  predominated  over  that  of  Comte,  sociology  is  still 
too  much  controlled  by  philosophical  prejudices  and  hasty  generaliza- 
tions. It  is  still  true,  though  to  a  less  extent,  what  a  leading  sociologist 
wrote  in  1896,  "that  much  sociology  is  as  yet  nothing  more  than  care- 
ful and  suggestive  guess  work ;  that  some  of  it  is  deductive ;  and  that 
a  little  of  it,  enough  to  encourage  us  to  continue  our  researches,  is 
verified  knowledge."7 

But  sociology  in  particular  and  social  science  in  general  suffer  from 
an  illusion  which  has  made  it  a  menace,  rather  than  a  tool  for  social 
progress.  It  has  proceeded  on  the  assumption  that  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  physical  and  social  sciences  was  based  on  the  distinction 
between  physical  and  social  laws  or  structures.  The  distinction  is, 
however,  as  was  above  pointed  out,  a  practical  and  historical,  not  a 
scientific  distinction.  Strictly  speaking  all  structures  are  physical ;  and 
if  we  define  sciences  in  terms  of  their  subject-matter,  all  structural 
sciences  are  physical,  just  as  they  are  all  "  natural."  The  term  biolog- 
ical, anthropological,  psychological  and  sociological  can  not  be  set  over 
against  the  physical;  they  mark  distinctions  within  the  realm  of  the 
physical.  And  yet,  current  sociological  terminology,  especially  that  of 
the  positivistic  school,  employs  constantly  a  distinction  between  "  phys- 
ical nature"  and  "social  nature,"  physical  laws  and  social  laws,  etc. 
The  fait  social  or  fait  moral8  of  the  positivists  was  supposed  to  be  a 
peculiar  kind  of  fact — a  fact  not  of  physical  nature,  but  of  "  social 
nature,"  which  was"  something  quite  different  and  independent.  This 
distinction  can  be  justified  only  historically,  not  metaphysically.  It 
arose  in  a  time  when  the  conceptions  of  the  reign  of  law,  "  natural 

T  F.  Giddings:  Principles  of  Sociology,  Preface  to  ad  edit.,  p.  xvii. 
8  V.  above,  p.  19. 


42  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

harmony,"  etc.,  were  dominant,  and  were  regarded  as  characteristic  of 
"physical  nature;"  and  the  contrast  between  natural  harmony  and 
social  strife  led  men  to  apply  the  concepts  of  physical  nature  to  human 
art.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  structures  upon  which  social  art  de- 
pends are  not  therefore  necessarily  social  structures,  except  in  the 
sense  that  they  are  those  physical  structures  most  closely  concerning 
social  art.  They  are  in  and  of  themselves  no  more  social  than  they  are 
moral.  That  is  why  we  called  the  distinction  between  physical  and 
social  science  treacherous,  and  in  employing  it  we  must  always  bear  in 
mind  that  it  is  merely  an  historical,  not  a  scientific  distinction.9 

The  science  of  anthropology  is  making  increasing  contributions  to 
social  science.  It  owes  its  success  largely  to  the  adoption  of  the  evolu- 
tionary method ;  in  fact,  it  was  this  method  which  constituted  it  a  sci- 
ence. However,  the  enthusiasm  which  the  theory  of  evolution  created 
led  to  extravagances  of  all  sorts ;  unwarranted  generalizations,  careless 
observation,  a  gullibility  for  traveller's  tales,  misinterpretations  of 
data,  etc.  But  gradually  a  scientific  technique  has  been  developed: 
careful  statistical  methods,  sifting  of  evidence  and  sources,  systematic 
observation,  etc.  So  that  a  great  deal  of  our  knowledge  of  the  facts  of 
social  life,  especially  of  primitive  social  life,  is  the  result  of  the  inves- 
tigations of  anthropologists. 

An  outline  of  structural  social  science  should  at  least  mention  the 
inquiries  of  philology,  ethnology,  social  statistics,  and  kindred  sci- 
ences. The  foregoing  has  not  been  an  attempt  at  a  critique  of  social 
science  and  its  methods ;  it  has  been  an  attempt  merely  to  point  out,  in  a 
general  way,  that  social  science  is  passing  through  a  transitional  stage 
and  is  becoming  genuinely  scientific  and  experimental.  It  is  ceasing  to 
be  primarily  social  dialectics  and  is  becoming  increasingly  a  social 
physics.10  And  from  the  success  already  achieved,  as  well  as  by  anal- 
ogy from  the  physical  sciences,  it  is  reasonable  to  predict  a  rapid  devel- 
opment of  our  knowledge  of  the  natural  structures  underlying  social 
processes,  and  an  ever  increasing  discovery  of  the  limits  within  which 
our  social  life  moves. 

But  to  return  to  the  relation  of  social  science  to  social  progress  and 
control.  The  point  which  must  again  be  emphasized  is  that  social  sci- 
ence, in  so  far  as  it  discovers  structures,  has  only  a  negative  function 
with  reference  to  social  progress.  It  merely  gives  us  the  knowledge 
of  the  limits  to  which  all  social  activity  conforms ;  it  furnishes  us  with 
the  boundaries  within  which  progress  must  proceed.  Another  way  to 

9  V.  Dewey:  "The  New  Social  Science,"  The  New  Republic,  April,  1918. 

10  V.  Ch.  A.  Beard:  "  Political  Science  in  the  Crucible,"  The  New  Republic,  Nov,  17,  1917. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  43 

say  this  is  that  structural  science  is  a  foresight  of  consequences. 
Through  it  we  know  that,  if  I  do  A,  then  B  will  happen.  But  it  neither 
asserts  anything  about  A's  being  done,  nor  whether  A  should  or  should 
not  be  done.  Social  science,  being  structural,  can  never  tell  us  what  to 
do.  It  is  complete  and  perfected,  when  it  can  tell  us  the  consequences 
of  anything  we  may  do.  It  predicts,  but  does  not  prescribe.  The 
analogy  with  the  physical  sciences  may  make  it  clear.  Chemistry,  for 
example,  concerns  itself  only  with  knowing  what  will  take  place  when 
certain  chemicals  react.  If  H2  and  O  are  combined  under  certain  con- 
ditions, water  will  result.  Similarly,  all  that  social  science  can  ever 
hope  to  accomplish  is  to  be  able  to  foretell  accurately  what  will  happen, 
if  a  given  policy  is  entered  upon,  or  if  a  certain  course  of  action  is  fol- 
lowed, or  if  food  is  scarce.  It  is  not  an  evaluative  or  normative  sci- 
ence. In  other  words,  structural  science  discloses  the  impossibilities  of 
a  social  situation,  rather  than  its  possibilities. 

The  laws  of  nature  are  therefore  not  forces.  They  do  not  make  for 
certain  ends,  nor  are  they  in  any  sense  purposive.  They  are  inert.  To 
"  apply  "  them  is  not  like  applying  steam  to  a  piston,  but  like  applying 
the  multiplication  table  to  a  problem.  The  multiplication  table  can 
never  throw  any  light  on  how  much  potatoes  should  cost  or  do  cost, 
nor  how  many  square  feet  there  are  in  a  city  block.  But  if  we  want  to 
find  out  and  make  the  necessary  measurements,  the  multiplication  table 
will  be  a  very  useful  instrument.  In  other  words,  the  foresight  of 
consequences  of  social  activities  means  an  instrument  by  which  human 
control  is  made  more  effective.  A  tool  of  itself  accomplishes  nothing, 
but  when  it  is  put  to  proper  use,  it  makes  action  more  effective. 

Of  course,  if  foresight  of  consequences  made  no  difference;  if 
human  control  and  behavior  remained  unchanged  by  a  knowledge  of  its 
limits,  this  would  not  be  true.  But  in  this  case  it  would  be  difficult  to 
imagine  what  knowledge  could  mean.  The  fact  that  foresight  is 
effective  is  the  fact  of  knowledge,  for  that  is  precisely  what  knowledge 
means.  And  conversely,  the  fact  of  structure  makes  knowledge  pos- 
sible, for  if  there  were  no  structural  order  in  nature,  prediction  would 
not  be  a  tool,  but  a  vanity. 

Therefore,  the  discovery  of  natural  structures  means  the  possibility 
of  social  control ;  and  an  increasing  knowledge  of  them  means  increas- 
ing freedom  of  social  activity.  Natural  limits,  once  they  become 
known,  cease  to  be  stone  walls,  against  which  social  art  shatters  itself, 
and  become  gate-ways  which  give  it  freedom.  Only  in  a  world  of  law 
is  liberty  possible ;  and  only  in  a  world  of  science  can  it  be  actual. 


CHAPTER  V 
MORAL  SCIENCE  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

We  now  return  from  social  science  to  moral  science,  and  its  rela- 
tion to  social  progress.  We  have  made  the  distinction  between  social 
science  as  structural  or  theoretical,  and  moral  science  as  evaluative  or 
practical.  The  function  of  social  science  with  reference  to  social 
progress  we  saw  to  be  that  of  discovering  the  limits  of  moral  activity, 
the  impossibilities  of  a  social  situation.  Its  function  is  therefore  nega- 
tive and  hypothetical,  but  not  on  that  account  insignificant ;  for  it  fur- 
nishes social  art  with  its  necessary  instruments  of  control.  Now  we 
come  to  the  function  of  moral  science,  which  is  positive,  namely,  the 
invention  of  the  possibilities  of  a  moral  situation.  Moral  science  is  the 
technique  of  social  progress.  It  is  social  deliberation. 

The  relation  between  social  science  and  moral  science  is  analogous 
to  that  between  physics  and  engineering,  or  between  physiology  and 
medicine ;  it  is  the  relation  between  "  pure  "  and  "  applied  "  science. 
But  we  saw  in  our  first  chapter,  that  this  relation  is  not  so  simple  as 
the  term  "  applied  "  might  indicate.  We  saw  how  the  usual  formula 
"  the  application  in  practise  of  the  laws  discovered  by  science  "  really 
serves  to  cover  up  the  nature  of  "  applied  "  science,  rather  than  explain 
it.  We  saw  the  complexity  of  this  "  application  "  in  the  technique  of 
engineering  and  medicine ;  and  we  attempted  to  clarify  the  meaning  of 
the  term  "  application  "  in  this  sense.  Now,  in  the  sciences  of  engi- 
neering and  medicine  we  recognize  the  need  of  an  elaborate  and  effec- 
tive technique,  but  in  the  realm  of  moral  science  we  still  are  inclined  to 
imagine  that  this  "  application  "  of  social  science  will  take  care  of  itself 
simply  and  naturally,  even  though  slowly.  And  hence  few  efforts  have 
been  made  to  develop  a  scientific  moral  technique.  Moral  valuation  is 
regarded  as  a  matter  of  individual  tact,  prudence,  foresight  and  char- 
acter, and  not  as  a  fit  object  of  scientific  research. 

The  survival  of  this  attitude  in  morals,  despite  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  supplanted  in  matters  of  physical  health,  industry,  agriculture, 
etc.,  by  scientific  control,  is  not  by  mere  chance.  It  is  due  partly  to 
the  same  factors  which  have  retarded  the  development  of  social  science, 
which  we  mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter.  But  the  chief  factor  is 
to  be  found  in  the  absence  of  democratic  social  organization.  The 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  45 

spread  of  democracy  and  the  development  of  science  are  contempora- 
neous not  merely  by  accident.  Science  is  a  democratic,  cooperative 
enterprise;  it  means  cooperative  control  in  a  given  sphere  of  inquiry. 
Imagine,  for  example,  what  stimulus  there  would  be  for  agricultural 
science  in  a  society  whose  agricultural  methods  were  fixed  either  by 
custom  or  by  an  arbitrary  power.  Suppose  one  man  or  a  small  group 
of  men  had  the  power  of  saying  how  the  soil  was  to  be  cultivated,  what 
implements  were  permissible,  what  might  and  what  might  not  be 
grown,  etc.,  of  what  use  would  a  science  of  agriculture  be  in  that 
society?  The  only  possible  chance  for  its  existence  would  be  that  the 
dictator  might  be  the  agricultural  scientist,  which  would  be  a  psycho- 
logical impossibility,  as  well  as  an  historic  anomaly.  Historically  the 
growth  of  agricultural  science  has  meant  not  only  fluid  conditions  and 
the  demand  for  more  efficient  methods  of  cultivation,  but  also  a  co- 
operative attempt  at  rational  control.  It  has  meant  also  that  society 
was  willing  to  submit  its  methods  of  agriculture  to  experimental  con- 
trol, and  just  in  so  far  does  it  indicate  a  democratic  organization  of 
society.1  The  same  holds  true  of  medicine,  engineering,  and  the  other 
practical  sciences;  and  the  growth  of  these  sciences  measures  the 
growth  of  democratic,  as  opposed  to  fixed  and  arbitrary  social  organi- 
zation. 

Now  in  matters  moral  and  political  this  type  of  organization  is  com- 
paratively recent  and  still  very  incomplete.  With  reference  to  certain 
social  problems  there  is  an  attempt  at  social  evaluation  by  means  of 
legislatures,  courts,  commissions,  boards,  etc.  And  though  most  of  it 
is  still  far  from  scientific,  it  is  at  least  a  matter  of  cooperative  enter- 
prize  rather  than  of  individual  judgment.  But  in  the  wider  sphere  of 
moral  problems  we  have  not  reached  even  this  stage. 

In  the  first  place,  our  moral  life  is  still  controlled  to  a  large  extent 
by  fixed  standards.  These  standards  can  hardly  be  called  valuations, 
since  they  are  for  the  most  part  the  product  of  chance,  of  habit  and  of 
instinct.  Such  are,  for  example,  obedience  to  authority,  loyalty  to  the 
group,  the  right  of  property,  the  right  of  liberty,  and  a  large  number  of 
others.  They  are  things  which  we  take  for  granted,  accept  unreflec- 
tively ;  they  are  our  moral  axioms.  One  of  the  first  tasks  of  moral 
science  is  to  inquire  into  the  actual  status  of  these  "  axioms."  Some  of 
them  are  probably  valid  principles  of  control.  Some  of  them  are  prob- 
ably survivals  from  a  more  primitive  morality.  Others  are  philosoph- 
ical fictions.  Still  others  are  accidents  of  the  social  environment.  The 
task  of  moral  science  is  to  evaluate  them,  to  test  their  claim. 

1  Taking  "  democratic  "  in  the  wider  sense  of  cooperative  vs.  arbitrary  control. 


46  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

In  the  second  place  our  moral  deliberation  is  still  a  matter  of  indi- 
J  vidual  judgment.  Evaluation  is  a  matter  which  each  individual  is 
supposed  to  make  for  himself.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  moral  judgment 
is  controlled  more  than  we  admit  by  the  fixed  rules  just  mentioned. 
Our  consciences  are  made  for  us,  and  our  morality  is  not  as  reflective 
as  we  imagine  it  to  be.  But,  disregarding  this,  we  find  that  what  we 
mean  by  reflective  morality  is  freedom  of  moral  judgment.  That  is  to 
say,  our  theory  of  reflective  morality  is  essentially  the  theory  of  the 
autonomous  will.  The  highest  morality  is  for  us  the  morality  of  the 
individual  who  is  not  constrained  by  social  pressure,  by  external  neces- 
sity, by  conflicting  passions,  but  who  is  free  to  deliberately  judge  for 
himself.  Such  a  state  of  affairs  is  indeed  an  improvement  upon  the 
morality  of  custom  and  external  social  restraint,  for  it  serves  to  break 
its  fixity  and  tyranny.  It  makes  for  social  fluidity  and  the  possibility 
of  change.  But  it  is  essentially  negative.  It  means  absence  of  fixity, 
freedom  from  the  bonds  which  prevent  progress.  In  our  analogy  with 
the  agricultural  art,  it  would  mean  a  state  in  which  each  farmer  used 
his  own  judgment  about  how  to  farm.  If  he  were  intelligent,  he  would 
probably  be  able  to  improve  on  the  traditional  methods;  if  he  were 
conservative,  he  would  probably  continue  to  do  as  he  always  had ;  if 
he  were  shiftless,  he  might  not  even  be  as  efficient  as  he  would  have 
been  under  the  old  restraints.  Such  a  state  would  produce  individual 
/  variations,  gradual  changes  in  methods,  and  would  hence  be  more 
I  favorable  to  progress  than  the  fixed  regime.  Indeed  such  a  state  is  a 
necessary  prerequisite  for  progress;  and  in  morals  as  in  agriculture, 
individual  variations  and  individual  judgments  are  what  make  prog- 
ress possible.  They  are  the  sine  qua  non  of  progress.  But  the  sine 
qua  non  is  negative.  Now  just  as  agricultural  science  has  utilized  this 
negative  condition  or  potential  progress,  and,  by  the  organization  of 
agricultural  experiment  into  a  controlled  social  enterprise,  has  achieved 
a  progress  which  an  indefinite  amount  of  random  individual  effort 
could  not  have  achieved ;  so  moral  science,  by  an  organization  and  ex- 
perimental control  of  moral  deliberation  and  judgment  can  achieve  a 
moral  progress  which  individual  judgment  left  to  itself  might  never 
have  achieved. 

Moral  science,  then,  far  from  being  a  return  to  fixed  conditions 
and  social  coercion,  is  an  attempt  to  give  positive  meaning  and  direc- 
tion to  individual  freedom.  As  such  it  is  not  only  an  extension  of 
man's  control  over  nature  by  science,  but  also  a  further  step  in  the 
democratic  organization  of  society.  We  can  now  return  with  added 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  47 

meaning  to  our  statement  above,  that  moral  science  is  social  delibera-  y 
tion  or  evaluation,  and  discuss  its  technique  more  in  detail. 

Our  first  problem  is :  what  is  the  subject-matter,  the  raw  material, 
the  data  of  moral  science?  From  what  has  been  said  it  follows  that 
it  must  at  least  be  a  problematic  situation.  But  the  usual  objection  to 
this  is,  that  this  reduces  moral  science  to  casuistry  and  hence  robs  it  of 
its  scientific  character.  It  is  a  common  observation  that  science  can  not 
possibly  determine  what  specifically  is  to  be  done  in  any  specific  moral 
situation.  Moral  situations  are  too  particularized  to  be  amenable  to 
scientific  method.  They  are  situations  calling  for  individual  intelli- 
gence and  judgment.  The  most  that  moral  science  can  do  is  to  formu- 
late some  general,  formal  rules,  which  can  be  applied  in  any  situation.2 
Hence,  moralists,  believing  the  problem  of  the  inquiry  into  what  is 
good  too  particularistic  for  science,  have  turned  to  the  more  general 
problem  of  what  good  is ;  they  have  turned  from  the  problem  of  what 
ought  to  be,  to  the  problem  of  what  the  ought  is.  This  relieved  them 
from  dealing  with  the  annoying  particulars,  and  at  the  same  time  took 
moral  science  out  of  the  realm  of  the  relative  and  problematic  and  into 
that  of  the  absolute  and  the  certain.  Thus  moral  science  became 
demoralized  into  a  theoretical  or  structural  science,  as  we  saw  in 
Chapter  II. 

Our  foregoing  analysis  of  the  moral  situation  suggests  a  way  out 
of  this  apparent  dilemma  for  moral  science — either  casuistry  or  theory. 
Moral  science  as  social  deliberation  has  for  its  subject-matter  concrete 
social  problems.  These  are  sufficiently  general  to  escape  being  cas- 
uistic, and  at  the  same  time  they  remain  practical  problems.  By 
"problem"  here  is  meant  not  a  definitely,  intellectually  formulated 
problem,  for  the  formulation  of  the  problem  is  part  of  the  function  of 
moral  science,  and  not  a  quality  of  the  raw  material  for  moral  science. 
What  is  denoted  is  more  accurately  described  as  a  problematic  social 
situation. 

This  problematic  character  of  the  social  situation  may  vary  in 
intensity.  On  the  one  end  of  the  scale  it  may  be  merely  a  socially 
potential  situation ;  a  situation  involving  practical  possibilities  claiming 
actualization.  Of  course,  every  temporal  situation  is  potential,  but 
what  is  meant  here  is  not  the  mere  fact  of  potentiality,  but  a  social 
situation  which  is  practically  potential,  which  makes  a  claim  or  demand 
on  social  action ;  a  situation  of  which  we  say  "  something  had  better  be 
done  about  it."  Examples  of  such  situations  might  be:  the  social  dis- 
position of  large  inheritances,  the  food  distribution,  the  racial  groups 

2  V.  Bradley:  Ethical  Studies,  pp.  1748. 


48  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

of  our  cosmopolitan  cities,  etc.  These  are  situations  which  at  present 
merely  suggest  possibilities  for  scientific  social  control.  On  the  other 
end  of  the  scale  are  situations  which  have  actively  conflicting  factors, 
"blocked  situations,"  social  impasses.  Examples  at  present  of  such 
situations  are  to  be  found  in  the  arbitration  of  industrial  disputes,  the 
control  of  prices,  the  urgent  problems  raised  by  the  war,  etc.  These 
situations  are  more  than  merely  potential ;  they  are  situations  partly 
actualized  into  opposing  directions  and  actively  demanding  control. 
Between  these  two  types  of  situations  as  limits  may  be  found  an  indefi- 
nite number  of  variations ;  and  the  problems  vary  accordingly  from 
the  most  specific  and  detailed  to  the  most  vaguely  defined.  But  they 
all  have  this  common  quality  of  being  incomplete,  uncertain,  prob- 
lematic situations,  demanding  (more  or  less  urgently)  social  control, 
and  as  such  they  constitute  the  subject-matter  or  material  for  moral 
science. 

Leaving  this  as  a  general  analysis  of  the  subject-matter  of  moral 
science,  we  turn  to  our  second  problem  in  the  analysis  of  moral  science, 
namely :  what  is  its  object?  We  have  already  labeled  this  object  Social 
Progress,  but  to  give  this  label  meaning  we  have  to  discuss  it  in  terms 
of  the  foregoing  analysis  of  the  subject-matter  of  moral  science.  The 
object  consists  in  the  successful  termination  of  the  social  situation 
taken  as  subject-matter.  We  have  seen  that  this  situation  is  taken  by 
moral  science  as  incomplete,  as  requiring  determination  or  control,  and 
the  function  of  moral  science  is  to  effect  this  determination  or  control. 
Or,  stating  this  in  more  traditional  terms,  we  may  say  that  moral  sci- 
ence has  for  its  object  the  invention  of  social  goods.  For  an  object  is 
a  good  by  virtue  of  its  functioning  in  this  process  of  control,  and  it  is 
only  as  objects  are  related  to  a  specific  process  of  control  that  they  are 
constituted  goods  or  possess  the  value-quality.  A  good  is  therefore 
not  merely  discovered,  but  invented  by  moral  science. 

The  relation  between  discovery  and  invention  is  very  close,  and 
the  two  terms  may  often  be  used  indiscriminately.  But  there  is  this 
important  distinction,  that  the  thing  discovered  is  something  external 
to  the  process  of  its  discovery,  whereas  the  thing  invented  is  the  direct 
outcome  of  the  process  of  its  invention.  We  say  a  steam  engine  is 
invented,  and  the  expansive  force  of  steam  discovered,  meaning  that 
the  former  is  something  produced,  and  the  latter  something  found.  In 
the  same  sense  goods  are  produced,  not  found.  The  coal  and  iron  and 
water  of  the  steam  engine  are,  to  be  sure,  not  produced  by  the  inventor ; 
but  their  organization  into  an  engine  or  mechanism  is  the  product  of 
the  inventor;  and  just  so,  the  raw-material,  the  natural  objects  and 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  49 

social  situations  upon  which  moral  science  operates  are  not  its  produc- 
tions, but  their  organization  into  goods  is  its  invention.  In  this  sense 
goods  are  artificial,  not  natural ;  they  are  products  of  human  art,  and 
not  given  as  data  for  it. 

Now,  just  as  the  inventions  of  mechanics,  engineering,  etc.,  were 
supposed  to  be  "  one  man  affairs,"  the  spontaneous  creation  of  an  indi- 
vidual's imagination,  so  moral  inventions  or  goods  are  still  supposed  to 
be  "subjective,"  individual  satisfactions  of  private  desires  and  imagi- 
nations. But  invention  in  the  physical  sciences  is  to-day  a  highly  devel- 
oped technical  social  enterprise,  and  it  is  just  as  objective,  and  just  as 
scientific  a  procedure  as  any  "  pure "  science.  And  so  there  is  no 
a  priori  reason  why  moral  invention  should  not  be  made  scientific. 
The  probabilities  are,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  invention  of  social  goods 
will  make  little  progress  until  it  becomes  a  socially  organized  process 
and  develops  a  scientific  technique. 

Having  determined  the  subject-matter  and  the  object  of  moral  sci- 
ence, we  still  have  the  problem  of  its  method  or  technique.  The  dis- 
cussion so  far  has  taken  for  granted  that  this  technique  is  a  scientific 
technique ;  that  moral  inventions  can  be  just  as  scientific  as  inventions 
in  any  other  field.  If  this  is  so,  its  analysis  would  be  nothing  more  or 
less  than  the  analysis  of  scientific  method,  which  is  too  serious  a  task 
for  the  limitations  of  this  essay.  Our  present  task  is  hence  of  a  more 
negative  character.  Taking  the  nature  of  scientific  method  for  granted, 
we  have  simply  to  consider  whether  the  problems  of  the  subject-matter 
of  moral  science  as  it  has  been  described,  admit  of  scientific  method. 
Or,  in  other  words,  we  have  to  consider  the  chief  implications  of  a 
scientific  technique  for  moral  science. 

In  the  first  place  it  implies  the  Experimental  Method.  It  means 
that  moral  concepts  must  be  hypotheses  for  experimental  verification, 
rather  than  final  standards  or  intuited  truths.  We  must  not  claim 
knowledge  of  moral  truths  short  of  verification  in  practise.  And  this 
verification  must  be  of  the  same  sort  as  it  is  in  the  physical  sciences,  a 
concrete,  continuous  process,  and  not  a  wholesale  affair.  To  verify 
means  to  put  to  work  a  specific  hypothesis  in  a  specific  situation  to  see 
whether  it  does  or  does  not  fulfil  its  intention.  Just  as  the  truth  of 
irrigation  consists  in  its  ability  to  control  and  fulfil  the  problem  which 
it  was  intended  to  solve,  so  the  truth  of  democracy,  of  trade-unions,  or 
of  honesty  consists  in  their  ability  to  control  the  situations  which  gave 
rise  to  them.  Apart  from  such  an  experimental  verification,  there  can 
be  no  claim  to  moral  truth  or  knowledge. 

In  the  second  place,  it  follows  that  it  is  impossible  to  impose  a  fixed 


5O  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

technique  or  borrowed  rules  of  procedure  from  the  outside.  Every 
science  must  develop  its  own  technique  as  it  proceeds  (within  the  gen- 
eral laws  of  scientific  inquiry).  The  science  of  medicine,  for  example, 
did  not  derive  its  elaborate  technique  (surgery,  the  use  of  serums, 
hospitals,  rules  for  sanitation,  medical  formulae,  etc.)  from  other  sci- 
ences, but  developed  it  in  response  to  its  practical  needs.  Similarly  no 
one  can  prescribe  beforehand  for  moral  science  the  organization  of  its 
technique.  That  can  come  only  within  the  development  of  the  science. 
At  first  it  must  grope  its  way  as  best  it  can,  and  gradually,  through 
scientific  genius,  through  repeated  failures  and  partial  successes,  an 
effective  technique  develops.  Wasteful  methods  are  eliminated,  general 
concepts  are  formed  to  organize  the  manifold  particulars,  and  in  vari- 
ous other  ways  the  procedure  becomes  systematized  and  ordered,  and 
hence  more  efficient. 

A  third  and  most  important  point  which  must  be  made  regarding 
the  method  of  moral  science  concerns  its  relation  to  structural  social 
science.  This  relation,  in  general,  the  relation  between  the  discovery  of 
structures  and  the  process  of  control,  has  already  been  discussed,  and 
it  need  be  discussed  here  merely,  in  its  special  bearing  on  the  relation 
between  social  science  and  moral  science.  These  two  have  been  sharply 
distinguished  in  this  essay.  The  reason  for  this  distinction  lies  not 
merely  in  the  nature  of  their  subject-matters,  but  chiefly  in  the  fact 
that  it  has  proved  to  be  valuable  in  the  organization  of  scientific  in- 
quiry. By  cutting  loose  from  immediate  practical  demands  inquiry  has 
been  enabled  to  multiply  its  discoveries  far  beyond  what  it  could  have 
done,  had  it  restricted  itself  to  the  more  narrow  and  immediate  prac- 
tical demands ;  and  by  so  doing  it  has  had  a  reflex  controlling  influence 
on  the  more  practical  activities.  The  whole  laboratory  method  is 
simply  a  device  for  making  possible  discoveries,  by  creating  artificial 
test  conditions,  which  could  have  been  made,  if  at  all,  only  very  imper- 
fectly and  laboriously  under  the  conditions  of  ordinary  practical  life. 
It  has  therefore  been  profitable  for  both  pure  and  applied  science  to  be 
carried  on  independently  of  each  other.  And  this  increasing  separa- 
tion is  only  now  being  accomplished  in  the  social  and  political  sciences, 
with  promising  results.  Social  scientists  are  now  becoming  more  and 
more  interested  in  theoretical  problems  on  their  own  account,  without 
reference  to  immediate  practical  consequences. 

But  for  this  very  reason  we  need  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  social 
science  and  moral  science  are  not  as  mutually  independent  as  they  may 
seem  to  be.  For  while  it  is  true  that  social  science  can  develop  an  inde- 
pendent interest,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  can  be  independent  from 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  51 

moral  science  in  its  actual  operation  and  working  relations.  Two  points 
need  to  be  emphasized.  First,  the  discovery  of  natural  structures  is 
possible  only  within  moral  activity,  that  is,  it  is  impossible  to  predict 
a  priori  the  limitations  set  by  nature  to  social  activity.  Natural  struc- 
tures are  discovered  as  the  things  we  can't  change,  and  the  only  way  to 
find  out  whether  we  can  or  can  not  do  certain  things  is  to  try  and  see. 
It  is  only  within  the  attempt  at  social  control  and  reconstruction  that 
its  natural  limits  can  be  discovered.  It  is  only  after  we  have  tried 
every  known  way  of  doing  something  and  have  invariably  failed,  that 
we  can  legitimately  say :  "  It  can't  be  done."  Of  course,  there  would  be 
no  progress  and  no  science,  if  we  could  not  foretell  on  the  basis  of  past 
experience  what  to  expect  from  a  certain  situation.  If  we  had  to  try 
each  drop  of  water  before  we  were  warranted  in  saying  that  it  is  H2O, 
there  would  be  no  chemistry.  But  since  we  live  in  a  world  in  which 
generalization  is  possible,  or  in  other  words,  in  a  world  which  .is  struc-  A- 
tural,  we  have  developed  a  scientific  technique  for  making  valid  gen- 
eralizations, the  technique  of  experimental  verification.  In  the  degree 
in  which  social  experimentation  can  be  carried  on  apart  from  moral 
activity,  in  that  degree  social  and  moral  science  can  become  distinct 
enterprises.  But  it  still  remains  true,  that  if  social  life  were  completely 
static  (and  hence  non-moral),  natural  social  structures  could  not  be 
discovered,  for  there  would  be  no  possible  way  of  distinguishing  be- 
tween natural  structures  and  mere  social  habits  and  artificial  accretions. 
The  second  point  is,  that  the  discovery  of  structures  is  essential  to 
the  process  of  control.  The  knowledge  of  the  natural  limits  of  social 
art  means  the  ability  to  foresee  consequences,  and  this  is  essential  to 
control.  The  hope  of  social  control  and  progress  would  be  quite  irra- 
tional, if  social  art  revealed  no  structures ;  but  their  actual  discovery  by 
social  science  justifies  this  hope,  and  at  the  same  time  furnishes  it  with 
the  tools  for  making  social  control  actual.  It  follows  that  moral  science 
is  not  merely  the  "  application  "  to  specific  instances  of  general  prin- 
ciples or  rules  laid  down  by  social  science,  nor  is  it  the  "  practical  im- 
plications "  of  a  "  theoretical  ethical  system."  If  this  were  all,  one 
would  not  be  justified  in  calling  it  science,  for  it  would  have  no  intel- 
lectual significance.  It  would  be  a  practical  art  like  that  of  laying 
bricks  according  to  a  given  plan.  If  social  science  discovered  "  rules 
for  conduct,"  "  guides  for  action  "  in  the  sense  of  prescriptions  which 
had  merely  to  be  followed  or  applied,  we  would  have  no  need  of  moral 
science.  But  we  have  seen  that  the  discoveries  of  social  science  are  not 
"judgments  of  practise"  but  "judgments  of  fact;"  that  they  are 
formulations  of  natural  structures,  not  principles  of  practise,  and  that 


52  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

hence  they  bear  the  same  relation  to  moral  science  as  the  discoveries 
of  physics  do  to  the  science  of  engineering.  They  are  not  so  much  the 
foundation  on  which  moral  science  "  rests,"  as  the  tools  with  which  it 
builds.  Now  just  as  tools  have  meaning  only  with  reference  to  the 
process  of  building,  so  the  discoveries  of  social  science  have  meaning 
only  with  reference  to  social  art,  and  neither  is  possible  without  the 
,  other.  Social  science  and  moral  science,  then,  must  be  regarded  as  dis- 
tinct, but  complementary,  activities  in  the  process  of  control,  and,  what 
I  is  more  significant,  as  complementary  intellectual  or  scientific  activities. 
Since  moral  art  involves  deliberation  or  evaluation,  and  is  not  merely 
a  matter  of  practical  skill  in  "  applying  "  the  laws  of  social  science,  it  is 
essential  that  it  develop  a  scientific  technique,  for  not  until  this  takes 
place  can  social  progress  be  intelligent. 

It  remains  to  point  out  what  the  present  status  of  moral  science  is. 
As  long  as  society  was  so  organized  as  to  preclude  all  social  delibera- 
tion, there  was  little  use  in  speaking  of  moral  science,  in  the  sense  in 
which  it  has  been  used  here.  But  now  that  social  organization  has  be- 
come sufficiently  flexible  and  democratic  to  make  social  deliberation 
possible,  moral  science  is  no  longer  a  dream.  In  fact,  the  troubles  in 
which  democratic  societies  are  to-day  steeped  create  a  positive  demand 
for  moral  science,  or  rather  for  its  further  development.  For  we  must 
not  discount  the  positive  beginnings  which  have  been  made. 

It  was  pointed  out  in  a  previous  chapter  that,  if  language  would 
permit,  it  would  be  profitable  to  call  all  practical  science,  all  science  in 
its  function  of  evaluation  and  control,  moral  science.  We  could  then 
consider  the  scientific  progress  accomplished  in  the  fields  of  engineer- 
ing, agriculture,  medicine,  industrial  invention,  in  short,  all  the  control 
over  nature  which  physical  science  has  effected  as  elements  of  moral 
science.  But  since  the  word  "  moral "  has  a  more  restricted  connota- 
tion, we  have  confined  ourselves  to  scientific  social  progress.  Hence 
our  survey  of  moral  science  will  include  only  this  narrower  and  com- 
paratively undeveloped  branch  of  man's  control  over  nature. 

Probably  the  branch  of  niacal_science  which  is  most  highly  devel- 
oped and  scientifically  organized,  is  the  science  of  education.  That 
the  problems  of  education  are  moral  problems  is  a  proposition  too  evi- 
dent to  require  defense,  for  the  kind  of  education  which  exists  in  a 
society  is  evidently  a  very  important  factor  in  social  progress.  The  art 
of  education  is  as  old  as  civilization  itself,  and  its  problems  have  always 
been  among  the  most  fundamental  social  problems.  But  for  this  rea- 
son it  is  all  the  more  astonishing  that  they  have  but  recently  become 
scientific  problems.  There  have  been  theories  and  philosophies  of  edit- 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  53 

cation  since  ancient  times,  but  they  have  for  the  most  part  been  pro- 
pounded as  truths,  rather  than  as  hypotheses  for  experimental  testing. 
Consequently  they  have  been  either  unfit  as  working  hypotheses,  and 
for  this  reason  impossible  of  verification,  or  they  have  been  "  applied  " 
with  the  advance  guarantee  of  their  truth,  rather  than  experimentally 
for  the  sake  of  verification.  Genuine  controlled  experimentation  in 
education  is  still  a  novelty ;  and  the  conscious  development  of  a  scien- 
tific educational  technique  is  still  in  its  beginnings.  These  beginnings 
are  marked  by  the  establishment  of  careful  surveys,  the  founding  of 
special  experimental  schools,  educational  laboratories,  as  well  as  by  the 
introduction  of  experimental  methods  here  and  there  in  the  public 
and  private  schools.  By  the  educational  inventions  thus  produced  we 
are  being  enabled  to  extend  our  control  in  educational  practise. 

A  second  branch  of  moral  science,  and  one  which  is  in  the  same 
stage  of  organization  as  the  science  of  education,  is  the  science  of  law. 
The  practise  of  law,  as  of  education,  is  as  old  as  human  society,  and  it 
has  been  the  object  of  study  for  at  least  two  thousand  years.  But  the 
phrase  "  science  of  law  "  has  a  strange  sound  even  to-day.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  study  of  law  is  for  the  most  part  not  scientific.  The  domi- 
nating principle  of  the  Common  Law,  or  in  its  modified  form  in  this 
country,  Constitutional  Law,  is  still  the  basis  both  of  legal  practise  and 
theory,  and  this  leads  to  a  precedent  and  case  method  of  studying  law. 
The  classic  doctrine  that  the  "  common  law  itself  is  nothing  else  but 
reason,"  is  still  very  prevalent,3  and  it  is  only  gradually  that  the  belief 
is  spreading  that  the  common  law  is  after  all  quite  "  common  "  and  far 
from  rational.  A  science  of  law  implies,  instead  of  an  appeal  to  a 
ready-made,  supposedly  rational  authority,  an  attempt  to  legislate 
scientifically,  i.  e.}  experimentally,  with  a  view  to  finding  the  best  solu- 
tion to  a  specific  problem  of  legislation.  In  such  a  science  the  study  of 
common  law  and  of  precedent  would  find  its  place  as  furnishing 
hypotheses  for  testing.  By  a  study  of  similar  cases  in  the  past,  and 
how  they  were  solved,  suggestions  and  ideas  to  apply  to  the  case  in 
hand  are  multiplied.  The  inventive  capacity  of  the  legislator  is  in- 
creased. But  to  use  this  appeal  to  past  experience  not  as  an  appeal  to 
experiment,  but  as  an  appeal  to  authority,  is  comparable  to  the  medieval 
anatomist,  who  decided  that  there  was  something  wrong  with  a  horse, 
because  he  didn't  have  as  many  teeth  as  Galen  said  he  should  have.  Of 
course,  it  would  be  expecting  too  much  of  our  law  schools  to  take  up 
the  science  of  law,  since  they  are  meant  to  train  lawyers,  not  legislators, 

8  V.  Roscoe  Pound:  "Do  we  need  a  Philosophy  of  Law?"  Columbia  Law  Review,  V, 
1905,  PP.  339-353- 


54  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

men  who  are  supposed  simply  to  know  the  law,  rather  than  how  to 
make  law.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  most  of  our  legislators  come  from 
the  lawyer  class,  so  that  indirectly  the  law  schools  do  furnish  the  train- 
ing (or  lack  of  training)  for  our  legislators.  Schools  for  legislators, 
rather  than  for  lawyers  are  now  being  founded  in  connection  with 
several  of  the  universities,  and  they  promise  to  mark  the  beginnings  of 
a  scientific  legislative  technique.  But  as  it  is,  legislation  is  an  art 
learned  by  practical  experience,  rather  than  a  science  controlled  by 
experiment. 

But  despite  the  hit  or  miss,  purely  empirical  methods  of  most  of 
our  legislation,  it  must  be  noted  that  our  legislative  procedure  and 
organization  is  significant  for  moral  science ;  for  it  is  fundamentally  an 
attempt  at  deliberative  social  control.  It  is  an  attempt  to  supplant  the 
more  primitive,  arbitrary  and  unreflective  control  of  common  law  or  of 
despotism,  and  the  still  more  primitive  absence  of  control  or  laissez 
faire,  by  a  deliberative  mechanism.  And  although  its  present  organi- 
zation is  still  very  inefficient  and  its  technique  unscientific,  it  furnishes 
a  large  fund  of  crude  experimentation,  the  results  of  which  are  very 
valuable  in  controlling  future  experiments,  and  in  refining  its  methods. 
Especially  significant  for  moral  science  is  modern  "  social  legislation," 
which  is  becoming  of  ever  increasing  importance ;  for  it  not  only  deals 
with  problems  which  are  moral  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  but  it 
has  been  enacted  with  sufficient  foresight  and  intelligent  control  to  give 
it  experimental  value.  Especially  the  experiments  on  social  legislation 
of  Germany,  France,  England  and  Australia  have  a  sufficient  amount 
of  general  homogeneity,  combined  with  particular  variations  to  suit 
local  conditions,  to  present  the  character  of  controlled  scientific  experi- 
ments, and  afford  an  admirable  basis  for  further  experimentation  with 
similar  problems,  in  which  the  United  States  is  beginning  to  engage. 
The  establishment  of  numerous  commissions  and  boards  of  experts  to 
make  scientific  inquiries  into  these  problems,  and  the  increasing  co- 
operation of  scientific  organizations  with  the  legislative  bodies  and 

j  administrative  officials,  the  founding  of  the  Academy  of  Political  Sci- 
ence, are  still  other  evidences  of  the  growth  of  scientific  social  control, 
and  promise  to  make  important  contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  the 

T^  technique  of  progress. 

Our  discussion  of  the  science  of  law  and  legislation  has  already 
taken  us  into  the  broader  sphere  of  politics  and  political  science.  The 
close  relation  between  ethics  and  politics  has  been  theoretically  recog- 
nized since  the  time  of  Aristotle,  but  one  has  only  to  look  into  ethical 
literature  to  see  that  this  relation  has  been  practically  ignored.  And 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  55 

the  reason  for  this  becomes  quite  evident  when  we  recall  that  the 
feudal  regime  was  a  fixed  political  organization,  imposed  from  the 
outside  upon  the  individual  as  something  to  be  accepted  without  ques- 
tion. The  organization  of  society  was  hence  not  a  matter  of  delibera- 
tion, unless  one  happened  to  be  a  ruler  or  a  feudal  lord ;  it  was  rather 
a  limiting  factor  for  deliberation,  something  taken  for  granted.  Moral 
right  was  thus  separated  from  political  right,  and  ethics  either  confined 
itself  within  the  feudal  regime  as  a  limit,  or  transcended  the  real  world 
altogether.  Ethical  theory  to  this  day  contrasts  public  right  with  indi- 
vidual right  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  absolute  right  on  the  other.  But 
our  present  social  organization  calls  for  a  close  alliance  between  ethics 
and  politics ;  in  fact  the  distinction  between  them  must  be  relative,  for 
political  problems  have  become  moral,  and  moral  problems  have  be- 
come political.  The  problems  of  social  reconstruction  or  social  prog- 
ress are  the  outstanding  moral  problems.  Politics  and  morals  are  now 
both  objects  of  public  deliberation,  and  can  only  be  distinguished  by 
the  degree  in  which  they  call  for  political  regulation.  Among  the  moral 
problems  there  are  some  which  call  for  legislative  regulation,  and  these 
we  usually  call  political.  Hence  the  boundary  line  between  the  moral 
and  the  political  must  be  constantly  shifting  in  accordance  with  prac- 
tical exigencies  and  social  conditions. 

So  we  have,  besides  the  problems  of  education,  of  legislation  and 
politics,  another  large  group  of  problems  for  moral  science,  namely, 
the  "  moral "  problems  in  the  narrower  sense  of  the  term.  These  are 
problems  for  public  deliberation  and  social  control  which  are  not  as 
yet  considered  subject  to  the  rigorous  and  definite  control  of  law,  but 
which  are  left  to  the  more  variable  agencies  of  public  opinion,  public 
approval  and  disapproval,  custom,  etc.  Such  problems  are  those  of 
marriage  and  the  family,  eugenics,  birth-control,  the  distribution  of 
wealth  and  labor,  arbitration  of  industrial  disputes,  poverty  and  char- 
ity, censorship  of  press  and  speech,  international  relations,  war  and 
peace — to  mention  only  a  few  of  the  groups  of  problems  which  con- 
front our  social  life.  The  mere  enumeration  of  these  problems  shows 
the  difficulty  of  separating  the  moral  and  the  legal  or  political,  and  the 
economic;  they  are  inextricably  interwoven,  and  problems  are  con- 
stantly shifting  their  status,  being  now  predominantly  "moral,"  and 
now  economic  and  now  legal. 

But  what  concerns  us  here  is  that  we  have  a  host  of  social  prob- 
lems— under  what  heading  we  may  class  them  makes  little  difference — 
which  call  for  scientific  control,  or,  in  other  words,  which  are  poten- 
tially subject-matter  for  moral  science.  At  the  same  time  the  fact  is 


56  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

all  too  evident  that  they  are  for  the  most  part  not  taken  as  data  for 
science.  Many  of  them  are  regarded  as  matters  of  individual  judg- 
ment ;  others  as  matters  beyond  scientific  control.  What  little  progress 
has  been  made  in  dealing  with  them  scientifically  has  come  inci- 
dentally as  "  applications "  which  social  science  has  casually  thrown 
out  here  and  there.  That  is  to  say,  they  have  been  approached  not  so 
much  on  their  own  account,  but  as  incidental  to  theoretical  problems. 
So  we  find  them  discussed  under  "  Applied  Sociology,"  "  Practical 
Economics,"  etc.,  which  usually  means  little  more  than  that  the  author 
"  draws  some  practical  conclusions "  from  his  theory.  The  present 
social  need  is  the  development  of  a  scientific  technique  in  solving  these 
problems,  a  method  of  inventing  social  goods. 

The  beginnings  of  this  technique  may  be  traced,  though  they  are  far 
behind  those  of  the  older  branches  of  moral  science,  education  and 
law.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  at  present  a  ferment  of  ideas  and 
hypotheses  regarding  them.  Many  of  them  are  mere  guesses  and  un- 
enlightened suggestions,  but  others  are  good  working  hypotheses. 
These  ideas  need  to  be  coordinated,  clarified  and  tested.  In  a  few 
cases  experimental  work  has  been  done,  where  ideas  have  been  put  to 
work.4 

There  are  two  great  handicaps  in  this  development  of  moral 
*  science :  ( I )  The  great  difficulty  of  experimenting.  Social  experimen- 
tation on  a  large  scale  is  too  expensive  and  too  treacherous,  and  the 
interests  at  stake  are  too  vital  to  stand  much  "  tampering."  All  experi- 
mentation in  its  early  stages  is  bound  to  be  wasteful;  too  many  false 
ideas  have  to  be  tried  before  one  is  found  which  will  actually  work. 
Where  the  object  is  a  comparatively  simple  invention  like  that  of  a 
telephone,  this  does  not  make  such  a  great  difference;  but  when  the 

•  object  is,  say,  the  industrial  reorganization  of  a  community,  progress 

•  and  knowledge  must  necessarily  be  slow  in  coming.    And  for  the  same 
reason,  the  separation  between  social  science  and  moral  science  will 
not  be  as  great  as  in  the  physical  sciences,  for  it  is  impracticable  to 
experiment  on  a  wide  scale  from  a  purely  theoretical  interest.    To  some 
extent  this  can  be  done  and  is  done,  especially  in  social  psychology  and 
anthropology,  and  that  it  will  be  increasingly  done  seems  certain ;  but 
due  to  practical  exigencies,  the  theoretical  and  practical  inquiries  will, 
at  least  for  some  time,  be  closely  related.    Otherwise  theory  will  be  cut 
off  from  the  possibilities  of  verification,  and  will  remain  "  mere  theory  " 
rather  than  knowledge. 

j         (2)  The  second  great  handicap  for  moral  science  is  our  ignorance 

*  Hull  House  is  a  good  example  of  such  experimentation. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  57 

of  those  structures  upon  which  social  art  depends ;  for  until  the  mech- 
anisms by  which  social  control  can  be  effected  are  better  known,  prog- 
ress must  be  slow.  The  tools  which  social  science  furnishes  are  still 
crude.  But  in  this  connection  it  must  be  recalled  that  the  making  of 
tools,  the  discovery  of  natural  structures,  can  take  place  only  within 
the  process  of  control,  and  that  hence  moral  science  can  not  wait  until 
it  finds  a  more  secure  theoretical  foundation.  Social  science  is  just  as 
dependent  upon  moral  science  as  moral  science  is  on  social  science. 
They  are  correlative  functions  of  a  scientific  social  art ;  the  one  is  the 
controlled  discovery  of  its  natural  limitations,  the  other  is  the  con- 
trolled invention  of  its  possible  goods. 

Upon  this  scientific  control  rests  the  hope  of  our  social  progress. 
The  need  is  only  too  evident.  The  blindness  and  frightful  waste  of  our 
social  life  to-day  stand  shamefully  revealed.  Our  ignorance  is  patent. 
But  our  willingness  to  face  the  fact  and  to  assume  our  moral  responsi- 
bility is  the  first  step  towards  progress.  The  next  step  is  moral  science. 


CHAPTER  VI 
FROM  MORALITY  TO  FREEDOM 

But  these  two  handicaps  to  moral  science,  the  difficulties  of  social 
experimentation  and  ignorance  of  our  natural  limitations,  are  after  all 
"  merely  practical "  obstacles ;  what  seems  to  be  far  more  troublesome 
is  a  theoretical  obstacle.  "  Social  progress,"  we  hear  it  said,  "  that  is  a 
pious  sentiment,  to  be  sure,  but  it  is  not  enlightening.  You  bid  us 
proceed,  but  you  tell  us  not  whither.  We  ask :  '  What  is  the  goal 
towards  which  we  should  make  progress  ?'  And  you  answer :  '  Never 
mind,  just  proceed/  What  is  important  to  know  is  not  so  much :  how 
shall  we  go?  as,  where  are  we  going?  If  you  fail  to  disclose  the  end  of 
our  journey,  how  can  you  bid  us  to  walk  intelligently  ?  Of  what  avail 
is  all  this  enthusiasm  for  social  progress,  if  it  be  not  linked  with  a  fore- 
sight of  the  goal?" 

In  other  words,  to  use  the  terms  of  the  moralist  again,  the  function 
of  moral  science  is  not  to  discuss  and  discover  social  machinery,  but  to 
"  lay  down  the  ends  "  which  this  machinery  is  to  serve.  For  clearly, 
social  experimentation  is  blind  (and  criminal),  if  it  is  aimless.  The 
wise  course  of  action  is  therefore  not  to  make  things  worse  by  our 
blind  enthusiasm,  but  to  first  make  sure  of  our  ends.  Having  done 
this,  we  can  then  discuss  the  means  of  their  realization.  Mill  sums  up 
the  situation  very  well  i1 

"  The  relation  in  which  rules  of  art  stand  to  doctrines  of  science  may  be 
thus  characterized.  The  art  proposes  to  itself  an  end  to  be  attained,  defines 
the  end,  and  hands  it  over  to  the  science.  The  science  receives  it,  consid- 
ers it  as  a  phenomenon  or  effect  to  be  studied,  and  having  investigated  its 
causes  and  conditions,  sends  it  back  to  art  with  a  theorem  of  the  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  by  which  it  could  be  produced.  Art  then  examines 
these  combinations  of  circumstances,  and  according  as  any  of  them  are  or 
are  not  in  human  power,  pronounces  the  end  attainable  or  not.  The  only 
one  of  the  premises,  therefore,  which  Art  supplies,  is  the  original  major 
premise,  which  asserts  that  the  attainment  of  the  end  is  desirable." 

If  this  is  a  correct  analysis,  moral  science  would,  of  course,  be  a 
contradiction  in  terms.  We  would  have  science  on  the  one  hand,  which 
is  theoretical,  structural,  and  therefore  non-moral ;  and  art  on  the 

1  J.  S.  Mill:  System  of  Logic,  Bk.  VI:  XII,  2. 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  59 

other,  which  is  moral,  but  not  a  matter  of  knowledge  or  science.  This 
is  the  theoretical  difficulty  which  hovers  about  such  a  term  as  "  a  sci- 
ence of  social  progress/' 

If  it  were  merely  a  matter  of  terminology,  if  it  were  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  the  appropriateness  of  using  the  term  science  or  art  to  designate 
a  social  enterprise  such  as  that  outlined  in  the  foregoing  pages,  the 
problem  would  indeed  be  sterile  and  of  purely  academic  interest.  But 
it  is  quite  evident  that  it  has  genuine,  practical  significance,  for  we  get 
a  different  kind  of  analysis,  with  different  "  facts,"  and  consequently 
different  methods  of  procedure.  If  we  accept  Mill's  analysis,  the  impli- 
cations are,  so  far  as  social  art  is  concerned,  that  social  ends  can  be 
"laid  down,"  posited,  in  an  axiomatic  manner;  that  they  are  definite 
or  at  least  determinate ;  that  men  have  fairly  clear,  definable,  aims  and 
ends ;  and  that,  if  difficulties  arise  in  defining  them,  they  are  dialectical 
difficulties  which  can  be  clarified  by  sufficient  "  reflection  "  upon  them. 
Either  ends  are  self-evident  and  can  simply  be  posited,  or  they  can  be 
clarified  and  defined  dialectically.  Dialectically,  because  ends  are 
axiomatic  and  must  be  defined  at  the  outset,  since  all  subsequent  de- 
ductions are  based  on  them  and  justified  by  them.  A  definition  of 
social  ends  must  therefore  precede  "  a  science  of  means."  Or,  to  quote 
Mill  again  (v.  note  to  Ch.  I,  p.  7)  :  "  Though  in  science  the  particular 
truths  precede  the  general  theory,  the  contrary  might  be  expected  to  be 
the  case  with  a  practical  art,  such  as  morals  or  legislation.  All  action  is 
for  the  sake  of  some  end,  and  rules  of  action  .  .  .  must  take  their  whole 
character  and  colour  from  the  end  to  which  they  are  subservient." 

There  are  several  points  of  this  analysis  with  which  the  argument 
of  this  essay  is  in  complete  harmony.  The  two  chief  points  are :  first, 
that  actions  must  be  judged  by  their  consequences;  that  nothing  but 
the  end  can  be  a  justification  of  the  means.  If  social  conduct  and  insti- 
tutions are  to  be  evaluated  scientifically,  it  must  be  with  reference  to 
their  ends  or  consequences.  And  secondly,  the  ends  can  not  them- 
selves be  justified.  There  is  no  intelligible  solution  to  the  question  : 
what  ought  human  ends  be?  We  can  only  ask  what  are  they?  For 
how  can  that  by  which  all  else  is  justified,  itself  need  justification? 

But  when  we  ask  this  question:  What  are  human  ends?  the  real 
difficulty  is  raised.  For  the  answers  to  that  question  reveal  a  seem- 
ingly hopeless  variety  of  opinions.  If  Mill's  statement  is  true,  that 
"  all  action  is  for  the  sake  of  some  end,"  it  should  follow  that  human 
ends  are  obvious,  if  not  to  the  "  common  man,"  at  least  to  a  social 
philosopher  who,  like  Aristotle,  "  reflects  upon  the  obvious."  But  the 
actual  state  of  doubt  and  confusion  which  prevails  should  make  us 


60  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

suspicious  of  this  assumption.  The  very  fact  that  Mill  argues  in  the 
very  same  paragraph  that  ends  not  only  need  to  be  defined,  but  justi- 
fied, that  a  doctrine  of  ends  or  first  principles  of  conduct  is  needed  in 
order  to  "determine  the  proper  objects  of  approbation" — that  very 
fact,  it  would  seem,  indicates  that  human  ends  are  not  as  axiomatic  as 
Mill  presumes. 

Whether  or  not  men  have  definite  ends  which  can  be  discovered  by 
processes  of  definition  and  dialectical  clarification,  is  essentially  a  prob- 
,lem  for  social  psychology.  And  it  is  too  large  a  problem  to  be  ade- 
quately discussed  here.  All  that  can  be  done  here  is  to  make  clear  that 
kthe  assumption  on  which  the  thesis  of  this  essay  rests,  is  that  men  do 
lot  start  out  with  definite  social  ends.  "  We  don't  know  where  we're 
jgoing,  but  we  are  on  our  way  "  is  not  expressive  of  a  pragmatic  motto, 
but  of  the  facts  of  social  life.  It  is  not  a  fact  in  which  we  can  rejoice, 
but  one  which  we  must  accept  as  our  starting  point.  And  it  is  the 
recognition  of  this  fact  which  constitutes  the  merit  of  an  experimental 
philosophy. 

As  Kant  assumed  that  "  what  one's  duty  is,  is  plain  of  itself  to 
everyone,"  so  modern  moral  philosophy  assumes,  and  with  much  less 
justification,  that  what  one's  ends  are  is  plain  of  itself  to  everybody. 
It  is  astounding  that  in  the  face  of  our  evident  social  ignorance,  philos- 
ophers should  make  definite  social  ends  a  starting  point  for  social 
philosophy.  The  discovery  of  social  ends  is  the  aim  of  moral  science, 
and  constitutes  its  social  utility.  But  moral  science  can  be  dialectical 
only  on  the  assumption  that  the  confusion  is  a  confusion  of  ideas  and 
not  of  social  life  itself.  For  Aristotle  this  assumption  was  quite  nat- 
ural. Just  as  duty  in  a  feudal  society  was  actually  "  plain  of  itself  to 
everybody,"  so  social  life  was  comparatively  obvious  and  simple  in 
Greek  society.  And  when  Aristotle  discussed  "  social  well-being," 
eudaimonia,  as  the  end  of  social  life,  the  term  meant  something  con- 
crete and  well-defined  to  Aristotle's  fellow  Greeks,  and  in  the  Nicho- 
machean  Ethics  we  have  a  concrete  description  of  it.  But  just  as  Duty, 
when  taken  out  of  its  feudal  setting,  lost  its  concrete  content  and  be- 
came a  formal  concept,  so  Aristotle's  eudaimonia,  when  carried  over 
into  modern  society  became  "  happiness,"  a  formal  concept.  And  con- 
sequently ethics,  which  for  Aristotle  was  a  concrete  inquiry,  became  a 
formal  dialectical  discipline. 

To  say  that  "happiness,"  democracy,  liberty,  etc.,  are  social  ends 
means,  therefore,  either  that  the  end  of  social  life  is  social  excellence, 
which  is  true  but  unenlightening,  or  it  means  that  they  have  a  concrete 
content,  which  is  obvious,  or  at  least  easily  defined,  and  which  consti- 


SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS  6l 

tutes  the  axioms  of  moral  science;  or  it  means  that  they  are  working 
hypotheses  whose  content  becomes  clarified  in  the  course  of  social 
experimentation. 

IiLlheJirst  case  we  have  merely  a  formal  analysis.  Social  ends  are 
not  defined  excepTin  a  formal  sense.  That  is  to  say,  when  we  define  the 
end  of  social  life  as  "social  excellence,"  "perfection,"  "happiness," 
"  self-realization,"  etc.,  we  are  defining  what  it  means  to  be  an  end ;  we 
are  given  the  connotation  of  the  term,  but  its  denotation,  its  concrete 
application  is  made  no  clearer.  Duty,  perfection,  happiness  may  have  this 
purely  formal  meaning.  Such  terms  as  democracy,  liberty,  etc.,  still 
have  some  concrete,  though  usually  vague,  content;  but  they  may  be- 
come purely  formal,  just  as  the  German  "  freedom  "  became  a  formal 
concept.  It  is  clearly  not  this  kind  of  definition  which  is  meant  when 
we  speak  of  the  need  of  defining,  clarifying,  our  social  ends  and  aims. 
In  the  second  ^ase  we  have  an  attempt  at  a  genuine  definition. 
Ends  are  fairly  concrete.  They  are  defined  in  terms  of  pain  and  pleas- 
ure, work  and  wealth,  safety  and  sacrifice,  peace  and  honor,  etc.  But 
the  significant  fact  is  that  the  more  concrete  these  definitions  become, 
the  more  disputed  and  doubtful  are  they.  A  nation  may  rally  under 
the  banner  of  democracy,  but  when  a  definition  is  called  for  it  divides 
into  a  hundred  camps.  All  nations  agreed  that  they  were  fighting 
each  other  in  self-defense,  but  no  two  agreed  upon  its  meaning.  So 
that  we  have  the  curious  situation,  that  the  more  social  ends  become 
defined,  the  less  social  do  both  men  and  their  ends  become.  And  we 
are  forced  to  conclude  that  either  men  are  fundamentally  un-social 
and  incapable  of  agreeing  upon  their  ends,  or  else  men  are  ignorant  of 
what  they  really  want.  The  latter  seems  the  more  probable. 

Jji^tfe^Ujiirdcase,  social  life  becomes  an  experimental  art.  Men 
are  ignorant  of  their  real  ends,  and  they  are  attempting  to  discover 
them.  From  this  stand-point  the  so-called  ends  of  social  philosophy 
become  hypotheses  for  social  experiment.  The  definition  and  clarifi- 
cation of  ends  becomes  a  social  instead  of  a  dialectical  process.  Ends 
can  not  be  posited  categorically ;  they  must  be  employed  hypothetically. 
Such  terms  as  democracy,  justice,  self-determination  of  nationalities, 
etc.,  which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  calling  "  fundamental  principles  "  or 
absolute  ends,  are  really  instrumental  in  nature.  They  are  hypothetical 
definitions,  themselves  needing  verification  and  justification.  They 
serve  to  designate  vaguely  concrete  changes,  particular  institutions 
and  social  organizations,  which  are  not  known  definitely,  but  which 
gradually  emerge  as  these  concepts  are  experimentally  employed.  They 
are  names  of  tendencies.  Tendencies  are  initially  vague,  and  it  is  only 


62  SCIENCE      AND      SOCIAL      PROGRESS 

in  their  social  interaction  that  they  become  defined  or  determinate. 
Mill's  analysis,  above  quoted,  therefore  represents  an  ex  post  facto 
analysis,  an  analysis  of  the  situation  after  the  real  process  of  definition 
has  taken  place.  After  ends  have  been  clarified  it  is  possible  to  posit 
them  as  desirable  per  se,  for  then  the  concrete  conditions  of  their 
existence  are  embodied  in  them,  but  in  the  actual  process  of  definition 
the  formulation  of  ends  is  hypothetical,  not  categorical.  Ends  thus 
formulated  are  aims,  as  opposed  to  consequences.  The  former  are 
logical,  the  latter  might  be  called  "psychological." 

As  long  as  we  proceed  logically  we  get  definition  in  terms  of  con- 
cepts, ideas,  universals ;  and  as  long  as  social  ends  are  posited  as  intel- 
lectual, cognitive  entities,  so  long  will  it  be  impossible  to  rid  them  of 
the  need  of  justification.  For  ideas  are  essentially  hypothetical,  true 
or  false,  in  need  of  verification  or  justification.  And  because  Mill,  for 
example,  conceives  of  ends  in  these  terms,  he  is  forced  on  the  one 
hand  to  admit  that  ends  can  not  be  justified,  since  all  else  is  justified 
by  them,  and  on  the  other  hand  he  is  forced  to  seek  a  "  doctrine  of 
ends  "  or  principles  for  the  justification  of  ends. 

The  ends  which  ultimately  justify  social  practise  are  not  logical, 
but  psychological,  i.  e.,  they  are  the  consequences,  not  the  aims,  of 

K-ction.  And  social  experimentation  will  cease  when  a  social  life  has 
een  achieved  which  is  psychologically  satisfactory.  Under  what  con- 
crete social  conditions  this  will  be  realized — that  is  the  problem  of 
moral  science.  When  that  knowledge  has  been  achieved  social  ends 
will  be  completely  discovered  and  moral  science  will  have  achieved  its 
goal.  Then  social  art  will  be  free.  Then  ethics  will  give  place  to 
esthetics,  and  morality  to  freedom.  For  then  conduct  will  be  luminous 
and  society  free.  When  social  art  is  no  longer  blindfolded  by  ignor- 
ance of  its  natural  limitations  and  of  its  own  ends,  when  man  knows 
himself  as  well  as  nature,  then  freedom  ceases  to  be  potential  and  be- 
comes actual ;  then  man  will  have  his  heart's  desires,  for  his  desires 
will  be  tempered  to  the  conditions  of  their  attainment.  Then  human 
life,  which  now  still  bristles  with  wild  shrubbery,  or  mocks  us  with  its 
clods  and  furrows,  will  be  a  garden  in  which  grow  ideal  flowers. 


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Supplementary  Bibliographies  are  to  be  found  in  : 

ELLWOOD,  CH.  A.:  Sociology  and  Modern  Social  Problems.     New  York, 


FAIRCHILD,  HENRY  P.  :  Outline  of  Applied  Sociology.    New  York,  1916. 


VITA 

Herbert  Wallace  Schneider  was  born  at  Berea,  Ohio,  March  16, 
1892.  His  elementary  education  he  received  in  the  Berea  Public 
Schools.  He  attended  the  Preparatory  Department  of  Baldwin- 
Wallace  College,  Berea,  Ohio,  1908-09.  He  graduated  from  Boys 
High  School,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  in  February,  1911.  In  September, 
1911,  he  entered  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  which  he  at- 
tended until  1913,  when  he  went  to  Columbia  College.  He  received 
the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  (with  high  honors  in  Philosophy  and 
History)  from  Columbia  College  in  1915.  He  was  a  graduate  student 
under  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy  from  1915-17,  being  William  Mitchell 
Fellow  at  Columbia,  1915-16;  and  University  Fellow  in  Philosophy  at 
Columbia,  1916-17.  He  has  been  instructor  in  Philosophy  at  Columbia 
since  1917. 


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